


The Pendragon Return

by Aelwyn



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Initially Completed on Wattpad on June 8th 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:33:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 32
Words: 39,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23330959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelwyn/pseuds/Aelwyn
Summary: Since Arthur's death and the battle at Camlann, the world has been clothed in a blanket of fragile peace. Magic has ceased to become a reality and is regarded as a recreational activity involving wires and projections on glass. The Arthurian legend has become a mixture of inaccurate data and myth, straying far from the true tale and the warning that it bears. That one day, Albion will be once more in grave danger and its king shall rise from Avalon to defend the kingdom he had built. Dark forces have reasserted their power that was lost with Morgana at the helm, a demolishing fire ahead of her and a swath of devastation behind. With the aid of Emrys and friends both new and old, Arthur is the only barrier standing between his sister and the world. Now is the time for honour and chivalry, grace and bravery, courage, and valour to be reborn in the fury of flame and sword. Now is the moment for heroes to come forth and stand in the name of justice and light. Now is the hour of darkness and the final conflict. Now is the Pendragon's Return.
Kudos: 5





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The Great Dragon: "Though no man, no matter how great, can know his destiny, some lives have been foretold, Merlin... Arthur is not just a king, he is the Once and Future King. Take heart, for when Albion's need is greatest, Arthur will rise again." 
> 
> Arthur: "All these years, Merlin... you never once sought any credit."  
> Merlin: "It's not why I do it."
> 
> Balinor: "Your journey has only just begun. You wield a power you yet cannot conceive of. Only in the heart of the Crystal Cave will your true self be revealed. Move towards the light. Your destiny awaits. Do not be afraid. Trust in what you are, trust in what will be."  
> Merlin: "Goodbye, father."  
> Balinor: "There are no goodbyes, Emrys. For I will always be. Just as you will always be."

The last light of the setting sun gleamed upon the concrete stone, turning them a creamy peach. The fiery red rays struck also the windows of the tall buildings, each pane of glass reflecting the burning skyline. They were ablaze with oranges, yellows, and reds; the silhouette of each mortar and metal sculpture penetrating the atmosphere and creating a statement for themselves, dark against the inferno which was slowly dying into a deep and suffocating blue. The lights of London would soon be golden and aglow in a futile attempt to compete with the pinprick points that were the distant stars, the moon black and new, awaiting its rebirth just as it did once every month. This astounding spectacle of bright grappling with the shadow was missed by all the population of the world, save one.

An old man was walking home, preferring the solitude it provided to the incessant chatter the cab drivers seemed to feel it was their duty to make. He had lived a long life, most of it alone, and had seen more than was considered sufficient to embrace a man in wisdom and the knowledge which only came with experience. The keys to his flat jangled in his pocket as he plodded home, lost in a world of long ago where everything had been so much simpler. It was funny; he had been so young back then. So sure that the events surrounding and shaping his life were the most complex, confusing forces driving him in a direction he knew not where.

A smile caressed the aged face, sad and elegant. How naive he'd been- how clueless they had all been. Were his friends still alive, they would have marvelled, just as he did, at the change that had come about in such a short period of years. Certainly the advancements in technology, but most astonishing was the outlook upon life. Back then, it had been all work and love; there was no question in the matter that one day you'd die. You lived life to the full each day, every day, because it might be your last. Now there were products to make you look younger than you were, to make you feel better about yourself, to distract from the true purpose and meaning that life should be filled with.

"Could you move it, gramps? I kind of have to be somewhere in a hurry." Asked a man rudely. The walkways were beginning to clear, losing their congested traffic. There was plenty of room for him to walk ahead. The old man looked over his shoulder without a word; he just stared at the younger man. Fairly soon the student lost his nerve and continued to walk behind, crossing the street and speeding up to lose eye contact with the gentleman.

There was also a considerable lack of public courtesy for man's fellow human beings in the recent years, something which irked him greatly. Back in the days of old, people knew how to address each other properly, especially depending upon their station in society. Yet, his friend had sought to see all equal. It had mattered not to him what blood someone carried in their veins. Or was that just the way he chose to remember him? The smile once again played across his face.

He reached his flat upon the fifth floor and turned the key in its lock. The door opened noiselessly to his turning the handle, and the lights came on as his fingers brushed the switch. A salamander, rosy bronze in colour, climbed out of his tank, scurried over to the edge of the table, and dropped to the floor. A short burst of golden dust, bright and magical, sprang from the tiny reptilian body. He grew to the size of an Irish Wolfhound, and leathery wings appeared on the flanks as he got bigger. When the transformation was complete he walked over to greet his master, tail sweeping behind him and cool blue eyes narrowed.

"Hello, Emrys." The small dragon whispered in a beautiful, fluidic voice.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

Long after the invisible orb of the moon had begun to move back down towards the horizon, in a dark alley far from the lit streets of London, a girl no more than around 20 was pouring her concentration into a tattered and dishevelled book. She looked at her mobile, and caught a cab into the country. The man gave her a queer look as he left, but the young woman took no notice. She climbed up the embankment running parallel to the road and trekked a good twenty minutes into the forest. There, in the darkness of the wee hours just before the dawn, the blackest and most without hope that there were in a night, she was met by twelve other women of like age. They ranged from Hispanic to Arabic, Asian to African, European to North American, and each came from a different country.

They greeted each other with broken words in the respective languages, and all thirteen arranged themselves in a half circle upon a slightly inclining hill. The clearing had no stars shining their light into it. The first girl, the one with the book, stepped forward still holding the frayed and rebound crumbling pages tight to her chest. Closing her eyes, she started a chant which was gradually joined by the other twelve women.

"Sinniht toforan rodorlíhtung, forþlæde se sceadugenga. Forþlædan Morgana Pendragon! Forþlæde þæm úpryne sylfum þá déaþscúan, ond þæt sinnihte sylfum brian hlæfdige. For wæron híe céapcnihtas ond níedling ánga séo þeódcwén sylfum forescýwa écelic!"

This was repeated continuously several times, and each time the chant would grow louder and louder. It did this until the cry could be heard rising up from among the pines and oak, grappling with the wind itself to claim superiority. When at last the ritual was completed, the girl threw the book upon the dead earth and lit a match, dropping the burning toothpick on the ageing pages. They ignited faster than tall grass in the savannah and were consumed by the flames. A great cloud of smoke rose up, dark as the sky above. The tongues of the fire, too, leaped higher. But they had become indigo; all light was sucked out of them.

Faintly, a melodiously sinister laugh could be heard growing louder and louder, as if someone were coming from far away. The smoke compressed and formed the shape of a body. As the laughter increased, the smoke slowly changed from a gaseous cloud into the solid form of Morgana Pendragon. The fire became extinguished, and the thirteen women dared not speak. She stood there, unmoving for what seemed millennia before a gasp of air was inhaled into her lungs. Her eyes fluttered open, and a smile being the embodiment of evil itself rested upon her lips. Finally, after all these years, she would have her revenge.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, happening in synchronous tandem with the other two events, an entirely different spectacle was occurring from the one within the forest. The isle and the lake appeared ageless, like a dream breaking down the barrier between the subconscious and reality. On the isle right in the middle of the Lake of Avalon, a bright light sprang from the centre of the tower and streaked into the murky waters. It then faded, and the surface remained still and unbroken.

Suddenly, from the deepest depths, the water began to churn. Halfway between both masses of land, a hand punched through the glistening sheet. It was followed by a second, and then a head. An entire body of a man rose up out of the water, the bright light visible once more as it emanated from within him. It carried him, feet just skimming the surface of the lake, to the shore of the mainland, where it laid him down on the grass before fading away. He was dressed in modern apparel from head to foot, completely dry save for the tips of his boots. Blonde hair was rustled by the night wind as the stars looked down from above as he lay on the soft, rich green blades. The lake ceased to exist as soon as he was on what would have been the start of dry ground; the island became a hill with the tower broken on the top instead of intact, as it had been for a few hundred years; almost as if two different points in time had come together for a brief moment before separating again.

The young man took his first deep breath in centuries, and two blues eyes opened. He was awake.


	2. What Year??

Merlin collapsed into the thick carpet that was the floor of his flat; a sharp searing pain coursing throughout his entire body. He lost consciousness fairly quickly afterwards, and awoke with the light from the sun at midday streaming in through the window. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and scratched the small dragon on his head in reassurance that he was all right.

"I'm fine, Bryrdan. At least, I think I am-" he trailed off abruptly as he caught his reflection in the darkened window pane. His hair was no longer white, but black and short-cut once more. The beard had gone; his face was clean-shaven and smooth. Even his clothes had mysteriously changed into something more modern-looking to suit his age. Save for his eyes, which still told the story of a long, hard life, the image of the man he had been was staring back at him. Merlin scrambled to his feet; he even felt far younger as he did so. In his heart there was kindled a small flame of hope, which quickly burned into a fire that spread into his limbs and made his fingers and toes tingle. It was a sensation he had long forgotten over the years; the energy of youth and the joy of just being alive.

"Arthur!" He exclaimed as he sensed great, tumultuous ripples in the usually calm flow of magic that connected him to every living thing. "I'm sorry Bryrdan, but I have to go. If I could take you with me, I would." The small dragon's eyes narrowed, his equivalent to rolling them, before he changed back into a salamander. The lizard climbed up Merlin's pant leg and slithered into his coat pocket. The sorcerer smiled and set off at a run down the flights of stairs to reach the street, where he caught a cab and instructed the driver to take him to a city he knew was close by to where the Lake of Avalon had once been.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

Arthur stumbled up a hill and pushed through a wall of thick bushes only to reach more unfamiliar territory. The strangest thing was the smooth and unbroken path of stone flowing through the landscape with the ceaseless tenacity of a river; a roaring noise steadily drew nearer. To Arthur's amazement, a boxlike structure resting on wheels, made of brightly coloured metal with windows, went screaming by at a pace a horse would only have dreamt of achieving. In the brief second he saw it pass and the few minutes it took to recover his wits after the terrible shock, the thing was already out of sight and the sound it made fading away. All that remained was a horrid smell wafting across the black surface.

Not sure exactly what he should do, the Pendragon started walking in the direction it had gone, keeping as far from the stone path as possible. Many more of the metal boxes in greatly varying size, shape, and colour continued to roar down it. While not immediately threatening, Arthur wished fervently every few minutes that he had his sword in case the metal beasts chose to attack. But they stayed solidly upon their stone; every once in a while they'd slow as they neared him only to speed up again as soon as they'd passed.

Before long a town came into view. It took him around ten minutes' walk to reach the outskirts, and near to fifteen more as he went deeper into the conglomeration of buildings. Everything was strange and not quite real to Arthur, and the traffic of metal boxes increased until there was, it seemed to him, a slight congestion problem. Raucous honking noises emanated from them and mingled with the shouting of the people. All was stone and metal, glass; any vegetation was placed into a box with soil and confined from over-expanding.

It was as if Arthur had fallen into a nightmare and couldn't escape it. People were scurrying about caught up in their own personal agendas, completely oblivious to their fellow human beings that they passed... Except to yell and torment them when they got in their way. But at least they were speaking in English.

There was a building labelled "pub," but seeing as a few guys were stumbling out its doors in a drunken stupor, he assumed it was some sort of tavern. The inside was even more nightmarish than the outside. Loud, blaring music of an extremely obnoxious kind was heard throughout the room, so that people had to shout to make themselves heard. It wasn't anything at all like a tavern. He turned to leave, but an enormous hand clapping onto his shoulder stopped him short.

"Do you have a quid to spare?" Asked the man. His breath stank of beer and his eyes had become slightly crossed.

"No, I- I don't have any on me." Arthur said in what he realised afterwards to be a very small voice. What was a quid?

"Lookie here, mates. Seems we have a vagabond in our midst. Turns up from out of nowhere with nothin' on 'im. Typical 2014 students nowadays, innit?"

"I'm sorry; what year?" Arthur asked, hardly believing his ears.

\---------------------------------------------------------

Merlin reached the bottom of the hill, instructed the cabbie to wait, and raced untiring up the path to stop just outside the tower of St. Michael, sensing that Arthur wasn't there. He knelt to the ground and placed his hand on the ancient stones, sifting through the background noise to locate a specific person. He found him in the middle of a hairy predicament, completely out of his depth. Bounding back down the hill and sliding into the cab, he directed,

"Yes, could you get me to Glastonbury please? And hurry. It's kind of important." It took around seven minutes to land outside the pub, and another minute more to pay the fare. Rushing in, the spectacle that greeted the warlock was in no way congenial. A full out bar fight was taking place, everyone involved. And there stood Arthur right in the middle of it, doing his best to not get punched while attempting to work his way back to the door and make a hasty retreat. The problem was: there were more men opposing him than with him. Glancing at the lights above and the window blinds all the way up, an idea crept upon his intelligence.

"Ácéoce þára blæcerna ond álynne dile se scufhrægl!" Merlin shouted at the top of his lungs. The blinds fell and locked together in an act to block out the sunlight; at the exact same moment every single light burned out and the room was plunged into complete darkness. The immediate silence which accompanied the action was both sweet to hear and deafening for the reason that none dared hardly breathe.

"Onlíhtaþ!" He commanded in a lower voice about a minute after. Instantly, the blinds were raised and the lights blinked back on. Slowly the music resumed, as if it were returning from a faraway place. All in the pub were astonished, but least of them was Arthur. He had been so accustomed to magic in his life that hearing an incantation and seeing its effect was nothing new to him. What did surprise him, however, was the hand clasped over his mouth as an unidentified stranger dragged him out a back door and into an alley with no warning. He struggled, but the person had him secured in an iron grip.

"It's okay, Arthur! It's all right!" Camelot's former king went limp with relief to hear a familiar voice, and as the speaker released him he turned to confirm their identity.

"Merlin!?" He exclaimed, still not quite certain his eyes weren't deceiving him.


	3. Reminiscing

The silence between the two young men was as awkward as it was thick. Arthur was nervous about the cab, and Merlin was too busy contemplating the events of recent. Not a word was spoken, and the cabbie seemed to sense that she also should keep her mouth shut so as not to interrupt their private reveries. They rode this way until Merlin instructed the driver to stop, and after paying her they got out and continued into the building, up the stairs, and to his flat. Arthur gazed around the main room with a distracted curiosity; he felt so out of place in this strange world of poured stone and metal.

"Sorry about the um- sorry about the mess," Merlin muttered as he hastily grabbed up a pile of unwanted magazines received through the mail and shoved them into their proper place: the trash bin. A book flew off of the coffee table and slid back onto the shelf amongst its other brothers in bound pages, narrowly missing a vase in the process as it did so. By this time Arthur had noticed Bryrdan, who had silently returned to his tank, and had walked over to inspect the reptile more closely. "Ah." Merlin added, coming to stand beside him. "I see you've met Bryrdan." When Arthur gave him a funny look, he explained, "This is Bryrdan-Gorlassar, last of the great dragons." To the salamander he coaxed, "It's okay. You don't need to be afraid of him. He's harmless." Arthur punched him in the arm, recovering a bit of his old spirits, and smiled in amazement as the little lizard transformed into a small dragon the size of a very large dog.

"Still up to your magic tricks then?" His former servant's smile faded to be replaced with a more serious expression.

"I think, after I get a few things sorted out, that we need to talk."

* * *

The sun had long gone down by the time Merlin returned to the flat, where he found Arthur standing underneath the lighting fixture staring up at the ceiling."How do you get up there to light the thing?" He asked, eyebrows furrowed in the typical gesture of puzzlement he always resorted to. Laying the bags he'd been carrying on the counter in his small but efficient kitchen, Merlin walked over to the light switch and demonstrated in an exaggerated motion what needed to be done. When the switch was flicked the light came on, and he smiled in amusement as Arthur jumped in surprise.

"How did you do that?" He asked. "Is it magic?"

"No; the switch, when flicked, sort of lights a spark, and the energy travels through wires hidden behind the wall panels, turning on the light." The look on Arthur's face clearly showed that he hadn't understood a word, but that it didn't matter.

"Well whatever you did, it's light again..." Sitting on the couch and letting his hands dangle between his legs, he looked expectantly at his old friend. "You said you wanted to talk."

"Yeah, I did." As Merlin sat next to him in a similar fashion, elbows propped on his knees, it became clear to the Pendragon that something was troubling his friend greatly. "What's the last thing you remember?" Merlin asked. Arthur sighed and closed his eyes; when he opened them again he made the mistake of looking over at Bryrdan and forgot what he was going to say. The small dragon narrowed his eyes, tail slowly swaying from left to right in a hypnotic pattern as it hung down from the edge of the armchair in which he'd made himself comfortable."Arthur?" Merlin nudged his friend, startling him out of his trance.

"Yes, sorry. It's just uh- there's a dragon in your chambers." He said with a laugh before sobering again. "I remember you trying to drag me to Avalon. The pain in my side from the wound Mordred gave me was intolerable. I was certain I was going to die because of it-"

"You said you'd give me two days off." Merlin broke in with a sad smile.

"Yeah... I did. And then after that everything is... More like a dream than reality, really. I heard you yell my name, I think. And also some weird-sounding gibberish. I must have passed out. But I do recall feeling sort of queasy, like I was being bounced up and down; it was cold, and there was a lot of wind. And then it stopped, and-" he sat bolt upright, face as pale as ash."I died, Merlin. I don't remember anything else after that, except..." Here he trailed off, and began to calm down once more. "It was like floating in water, but never needing to come up for air. Not warm, but not cold either at the same time. Soft bright light, and yet none at all. Completely... Timeless." Snapping out of his lapse into daydreaming, he added, "-And then I woke up in the twenty-first century. So go on; how did you get here?" Merlin laughed nervously.

"Uh... That may be a bit tougher to explain. I'll try my best, believe me. But it may be difficult to swallow." Arthur prodded him in the side, all encouragement. Merlin smiled in resignation and dove headfirst into his tale."It all started a few days before the battle at Camlann. Everything was going well. Another treaty had been signed with one of our usually hostile neighbours, the harvest had come in as a bountiful collect, and Morgana hadn't bothered us for some time as she was amassing her army. So the two of us and the knights decided to go to the tavern and mess around for a bit-"

"I was meaning to ask you about that game. Were you using magic?"

"Just my natural abilities," Merlin responded with a smirk, only to be cuffed on the head.

"What did I say? I said your coughing threw me off. I was right!" Arthur laughed while ruffling his friend's hair. "Go on. So what happened after you took all of my money?"

"Morgana happened. She placed a mystical creature, called a Gean Canach, in a box underneath my bed while I was away. And what they do; they suck the magical power out of a person. They don't kill, they just incapacitate." A hissing noise could be heard from the kitchen, startling the two momentarily, and he got up to remove the kettle from its burner on the stove. Coming back with a tea mug in each hand, one was deposited in front of Arthur on the coffee table and the other remained in his grasp. Nursing it gently, Merlin continued on.

"I felt so helpless. When the garrison fell and Morgana started her attack, I knew I had to regain my magic somehow, or there was no hope for us..." He trailed off, noticing the look on Arthur's face. The wheels had clearly been turning in his mind, and it seemed that the hamsters' hard work hadn't been for nothing.

"You weren't going to fetch herbs for Gaius. But you weren't running away either." A smile, baffled and amazed at the same time, accompanied the shake of Arthur's head. "All that time, when I called you a girl or a coward; you were the bravest man I knew. And I was entirely oblivious to it. For that I'm sorry."

"No, you don't have to apologise. It gave me the opportunity to insult you with good reason. Otherwise, we'd both have gotten bored."

"But you went to regain your magic."

"In the Valley of the Fallen Kings, there's a cave filled with crystals." The sorcerer's eyes sparkled as he described what it looked like. "It's the birthplace of magic itself. But Morgana was already there first. She loosed the rocks in the ceiling and trapped me in, but the cave itself was still open to me. Her gravest mistake; I entered in and was met by the ghost of my father."

"Your father!? I thought you said you'd never met him!"

"His name was Balinor." A wall of silence fell between them as Arthur digested this new piece of information.

"I'm sorry. If he was a Dragonlord, does that make you...?"

"Yeah, it does. I'm the last of the Dragonlords." They both glanced over at Bryrdan, who was now sleeping peacefully in the armchair. A hissing sort of snoring purr was faintly heard now that no one was talking. "And, my father told me; I said goodbye to him. And he said something which, at the time, sounded so strange, "There are no goodbyes, for I will always be. Just as you will always be." I didn't understand what he meant by that; he was a ghost and I was still alive." His eyes misted as he thought back to that moment in his life. "But that's what he meant. I've watched my friends grow old and die without me. Every single crusade, when the Romans aspired to take back Jerusalem from the Saracens. I was around during the revolution when the American colonies declared their independence from Britain. I witnessed both World Wars, when man sought to find new ways to slaughter man. And through all that, the only thing that remained constant was me." Arthur looked at his friend.

"You've been alive for almost two thousand years?" He asked in disbelief. Merlin smiled; the cocky, ignorant one that he remembered so well on the same face he'd seen before he'd died. Just then something occurred to him."Okay, you've been alive for a long time. But me? I was dead, Merlin. Why am I back, how am I back, and what for?" A nasty suspicion crept up through his subconscious and threatened to strangle with his reason in a contest of wills. Everything he'd been taught since birth about sorcery told him that you couldn't place your trust in it for a second, but Merlin was proof that that wasn't necessarily true. Still, Arthur felt the need to ask.

"Was it sorcery?" He looked back at Merlin and realised that his friend hadn't heard a word he'd said. No change there since the old days, then. "Merlin." He said, nudging the warlock to get his attention. "Was it sorcery?" He enunciated with more firmness. Merlin shook his head.

"Then what was it?"

"I don't know!" He explained loudly, surprising them both. Bryrdan turned over in his sleep, but didn't wake.

"I don't know, Arthur." He sighed, lowering his voice. "Something... There's something happening that I don't understand. Just- Give me some time to figure it out." Making a noticeable effort to brighten things up, Arthur smiled and changed the subject.

"So... Let the gloating and the humility begin. How many times did you save my life when I thought I'd just got lucky?" 


	4. A Journal of Accurate Historical Happenings

Arthur had been tossing and turning ever since he'd laid his head upon the pillow. His mind was reeling; there was so little about his own life that was actual reality. A branch falling into the middle of a sword-fight here, a crazy old man unforgettably eccentric yet familiar there. And at every turn there was Merlin. Saving his life from sorcerers, Sidhe, sorceresses, traitors, bandits, enemy knights, mythical creatures, and the occasional troll for a stepmother. He had always been by his side; made him believe in himself and Camelot again when no one else could. The former king rolled over again and his hand struck something... More natural than the materials he was currently surrounded by. Unable to sleep anyway, he took the opportunity to investigate said object with more scrutiny. Flailing slightly until his fingers brushed the shade covering the... Lamp. Yes, Merlin had called it a lamp- he pulled the small cord underneath and blinked in the sudden change of brightness, temporarily blinded. When his vision was returned to him he looked at the table beside his bed to see a tattered, leather-bound book secured with a leaden clasp and hinges. The title had been handwritten using a quill pen; Arthur could tell by the fading and from where the ink had begun to run dry. He smiled as he read it, recognising his friend's slant and shaping of the letters in each stroke. It read thus:

" _A Journal of Accurate Historical Happenings_ " And a style had been pressed into the soft leather until an indented image had been set upon it. The image was the Pendragon crest, and where the outline of a shield would have been were instead lines composing the same shape, but several small making a thicker width as they wove in out out of one another to the same effect that such borders were used in books of incantation. It was a beautiful mosaic, one that the former king was sure he would not be able to find in the world he had come upon today, and with a gentleness of a shepherd carrying a wounded lamb back to its flock, he opened the book to the first page. It read as follows in the same lilting script as the title:

" _I was born in a small outlying village belonging to what was the kingdom of Cenred during his father's reign. There, in Ealdor, I lived my life constantly hiding who I was. I had been born with magic, a gift that in better times would have been a blessing rather than a curse. Before I could talk I could move things both great and small with nothing other than a thought on a whim or an outstretched arm; my mother was constantly telling me for as far back as I remember that no one could know about my gift. It was my burden as well as my protection. For it was during that time that king Uther had declared war upon sorcery, and thus began the Great Purge the year before I was born. That was part of the reason my father left. He loved my mother, but he was a Dragonlord. It was an inherited set of skills that resembled too closely the practice of magic, and for that reason Camelot's king pursued him. The only other person to know of my secret was my friend, William. When he found out, my mother was furious. It led to a series of other disastrous misfortunes; for instance the one time I felled a tree without an axe and nearly flattened Old Man Simmons. He had never liked me much before then, and even less after. Will justified the mistake by remarking that he'd deserved it, which wasn't entirely untrue. Yet it proved to my mother yet again that I needed something more than what Ealdor could give. She sent a letter to her oldest friend living in Camelot as Court Physician, and he agreed to take me in._

_By this time I was ready for a change, and agreed to do as my mother asked. Upon arriving at Camelot, I was just in time to witness the execution of a man accused of practicing magic. Though I forget his name, the memory of his death is as clear as when I first saw it. My premier encounter with Gaius was, now that I look back on it, a comical one. I startled him, and he fell from the upper bookcase. I slowed his descent and moved the bed underneath him to soften the fall, and he was so flustered afterwards that he even forgot that it was Wednesday. That night, as I acclimatised to my new surroundings, I happened to look out my window and see all of Camelot glistening below as torches were lit and people returned home after a long day's work. The next morning I was sitting down to breakfast when Gaius "accidentally" knocked a bucket full of water to the floor. Without even thinking I froze it in midair, then realising what had occurred let it fall to the floor._

_Gaius was deeply intrigued by my powers, convinced that I must have studied beforehand and as a result recited an incantation in my mind. But I knew no spells, which seemed to confound him more. I was tasked with delivering medication to a few of the citizens, and after I had completed my errand I decided to explore the city. It was a decision which effected my life forevermore afterwards. As I was walking out of the castle grounds I spotted a group of young men around my age tormenting a servant. The ringleader was a blonde and very accurate in his aim, instructing the poor boy to run with the target for moving practice. The target then fell out of his hands at some point in the situation, and I took the opportunity to attempt to end the event. My first meeting with Prince Arthur left anything but a good impression on my mind, and I am certain it was the same for him. Little did I know that we would one day become the closest of friends-_ "

With a smile Arthur closed the collection of pages he had been carefully leafing through, remembering vividly the first time he had ever met Merlin. It was exactly as the pages described, though from his friend's perspective. Funnily enough, as he looked back on that part of his life in which he still had so much more growing up to do, he regarded it with the same approach as Merlin did. He had been tormenting that poor servant boy, and he had deserved everything Merlin had said to him concerning it. Merlin was constantly putting him in his place. The book was ancient, and had obviously been enchanted to last indefinitely. It was important and precious to his friend, Arthur realised, and therefore those words weren't just his memories and thoughts. They were also his heart.


	5. Fact... Or Fiction?

"People actually wear this kind of thing?" Arthur asked doubtfully as he slipped the burgundy suede jacket on over a dove grey long-sleeved shirt.

"Believe it or not." Merlin muttered, bending down to tie his black converse. He himself was wearing a brown suede jacket over a dark blue long-sleeved shirt, the kind where the collar and lower half of the sleeves and hem on the bottom were a different fabric; in this case, a rich bright red. Both were wearing jeans; Merlin's denim and Arthur's dark khaki. As Arthur pulled on his socks and put on a pair of red trainers, he looked at the tangled mess of laces and sighed in exasperation.

"I wish I had boots," he muttered. Merlin glanced over at his friend, saw the problem, and went over to help resolve it. As he tied the slippery shoelaces together, showing the blonde how to do it himself as he did so, it dawned on his mind that this was a world that neither he nor Arthur belonged to. They were meant to be riding horses and going on hunts, quests, attending tournaments and fighting with sword and crossbow. Or with each other... Which always involved the throwing of plates, pitchers, or clothing.

"What material are the soles made out of?" Arthur asked, startling him out of his thoughts. His friend was running his fingers along the underside of his converse, a perplexed look on his face as his skin came in contact with the unnatural material.

"Rubber," Merlin answered. "It's really not that bad a product being made. Rubber blocks electrical currents, so if you're walking in the rain and the ground gets struck by lightning, you won't get electrocuted through the water."

"Yeah, because people always walk in the rain stomping through puddles and get struck by lightning." Arthur commented sarcastically. Merlin smiled and finished tying the troublesome laces.

"There you go. I tied them just loose enough for you to be able to slip in and out of them without having to untie them. I do that to all of mine too. It's just so much less of a hassle to tie the laces that way." Arthur came under the impression that Merlin was delaying the inevitable.

"So where are we going then? Is it within walking distance? Because I really don't feel all that safe in those- cab- things."

"We're going to the nearest library. I need to find a book on geography."

"Geography??" Arthur asked with a raise of his eyebrows. Merlin was anything but a mapmaker.

* * *

They entered into a beautiful building filled with books and tables, comfortable seating, and rooms cordoned off from the main area for intense study; it was the biggest and most awe-inspiring collection of novels that Arthur had ever seen, and Merlin smiled at the look on his friend's face. After walking up many a flight of stairs and down, through aisle after aisle, they searched for about an hour for the geography section only to end up back at the front doors. At this point a mutual agreement was reached to split up; Merlin told Arthur the title and author and they went their separate ways. The rows of books never seemed to have an end. The Pendragon had been up and down this shelf already, yet there were so many titles it was difficult to tell whether or not he'd missed any. Earlier on he'd passed a collection of novels categorised under "Robin Hood," another to "Shakespeare," a whole shelf dedicated to the author "Sir Arthur Conan Doyle." But he found not what he sought. A hardback caught his eye, and led to a more shadowy area farther from the windows.

"Can I help you? I don't work here, but I know every shelf by heart, and you seem lost." A feminine voice asked behind him. Arthur turned, relieved that someone had noticed his plight, to find a brown-eyed girl around her early twenties with flaming red hair.

"Yes, would you be so kind as to direct me to the geography... Section?" Arthur asked, flailing a bit for the last word before it came to him. The lady looked at him funnily for a moment or two, as if he had said something odd. But it was in a sort of pleased way.

"Oh, a gentleman! Why yes, good sir-" she did a small mocking, yet playful bow- "if you would just follow me this way." She then paused, intense eyes focusing on the bookshelf behind him. "So, um... Did you get sidetracked? Because this section holds novels on the Arthurian Legend, not maps and plants. The "Arthurian Legend??" What was that about? Arthur didn't answer immediately, attempting to understand the name. The titles on the book bindings suddenly jumped out at him:

_Lancelot, Uther, Pendragon, Le Morte D'Arthur, The Mists of Avalon, The Sword in the Stone, The Lost Years of Merlin, The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights_ , and the one that struck him most: _The History of the Kings of Britain_ by Sir Geoffrey of Monmouth. Geoffrey, who had been his Court Historian/Genealogist/Archivist. There were numerous other novels on the shelf, some with very little meaning and others worth more than 1,000 gold pieces.

"-I love the "King Arthur" stories. You know, some people think that he was a real person? I'm one of them. Oh, my name's Chrystie by the way. Short for "Chrysanthemum," like the flower. What's your name? Oh, sorry. I'm a bit of a chatterbox. My boyfriend says it's my only fault. You don't talk much, do you?" Arthur blinked, only just becoming aware that "Chrystie" had been talking to him the whole time.

"Um... My name's Arthur, since you asked. Now could you-"

"No kidding! Just like the legends! That's so cool!" Chrystie cut him off before he finished his question, launching back into another round of talking. Taken aback by her far too open and forward manner, the former king searched eagerly for an excuse to escape the increasingly awkward conversation.

"Arthur! I found what I was looking for!" Merlin exclaimed, coming around the end of a row of books to end up face to face with a girl who wouldn't shut up and his friend. She stopped to breathe when another person entered the scene, and Arthur hurriedly stated,

"Great... Colin. Let's head back then." Chrystie looked a bit downcast, muttered "bye," and disappeared behind a stack of books. Merlin frowned, clearly dying to ask why Arthur had called him "Colin," but instead went to the collection of novels categorised under "Arthurian Legend" and inquired instead,

"Were you looking at this?" Shaking his head to clear it of confused notions, Arthur replied,

"Yeah. They're about... Us. I think you need to explain things a little more. Do you disagree?"

"No."

"Good. Then check that novel out and we can be off." His hand brushed one of the books, and Arthur pondered taking it off the shelf. Merlin grabbed his arm, drawing it away from the spine.

"I really wouldn't if I were you. Aside from Sir Geoffrey's, every single book here is insulting to my- and your- life. And even then his isn't entirely accurate. Wrote it in the decline of his health, poor man. There's more myth than actual fact in them." As they were walking out the library's doors, he added, "And why did you call me Colin?" Arthur's smile was grim.

"Because we would still be there listening to her incessant chatter had I said "Merlin," that's why. Trust me. I did you a favour." Merlin shrugged his shoulders, the book under one arm as they walked. 


	6. The Burning History

Bryrdan was pacing across the floor impatiently while Merlin flipped through the book filled with maps and climate data, Arthur looking over his shoulder. The noise of rustling pages abruptly stopped."Here!" Merlin said triumphantly, pointing to a cluster of trees.

"This is what I was searching for." Arthur glanced at the darkened section of the map.

"A forest? What's so special about that?" He questioned. Merlin half turned in his chair, which swivelled on its wheels.

"It's not just any forest. Morgana was buried there, deep into the earth without a marking of any sort. But it is said that the soil turned black, and the forest withered with decay around the clearing within which she had been laid to rest. Mordred, also; she set for him a marker with his sword afore it underneath a tree of the same clearing."

"What does that have to do with us?" Arthur asked, a very bad feeling settling in his heart. Bryrdan walked over to the desk and propped his chin on the edge, forked tongue flicking between sharp white teeth to tickle his nose.

"Everything, Pendragon." The voice, like liquid fire, flowed from the dragon's mouth. Arthur jumped; it had been the first time the reptile had spoken. Bryrdan continued with a twinge of amusement to his speech: "Your reign was never truly about ruling the people. It was what you would build during that short time, and what you would return to protect."

"All right, Bryrdan. I think I can explain from here. It took me a bit, but I have figured it out despite your somewhat cynical opinion of my intellectual prowess." Merlin said, cutting the dragon off as the book slammed shut.

"Cuman mec," he muttered, and another novel flew from the shelf and slid across the coffee table, opening to the exact page that was needed. Arthur bent down and picked it up, reading the passage.

" _All good things be for naught as the dark closes in, burying the stars in the sky. Everything dies. The nations brought together will splinter like wood and be scattered among the grains of oppression, the shore spanning for eternity the sea of time. In Albion's greatest need her king shall rise from the depths, Avalon's secret for so long kept. Awakened will be the age of chivalry from its slumber; the sword drawn from the stone sharpened anew. The empress of shadow walketh in the night, awaiting the crowning glory of her reign. Tombs will be opened and caskets shattered like glass, the dead slaves to her will._

_The war of the ancients will a-surface once more, and the power of the earth felt. Serpent's strength and man's quill, the pen of the dragon hath the right to draft the future. Wrong shall be set right and the golden firedrake upon the red field shall fly once again; darkness cannot linger before it. From the distress of her station the shining kingdoms will summon the knights of the table round, and they will rise to the threat to defend Albion when cometh the Once and Future King._ " He exhaled long and hard, not willing to take the words written at face value.

"Who wrote this?" Arthur asked sharply, desperately.

"I did." Merlin answered modestly. "I... Sometimes have... Visions. Glimpses into the future. And every time I do I can sense whether or not it will be near or far off, so I write into prophecy or poem the events I have seen, knowing that they will come to pass. And... That was one of them."

"You?"

"Problem?" Merlin inquired with raised eyebrow.

"No," Arthur answered with a slight chuckle. "You've got all these talents I never even knew about. You're a mystery wrapped up in a riddle, Merlin. You could've become a distinguished poet had you wanted to." Then the text which he had just read unfolded its secrets, and his mind understood them. He slowly sank onto the sofa with the book hanging from his clutching fingers.

"You called me "The Once and Future King." I've read stories, myths. They were a part of my schooling. The tale of a ruler who would unite the kingdoms in peace and protect them with his life. And while doing so he would fall, only to rise again when their need was most dire. It was a fairytale about a world that was shining and beautiful. I never thought that it would be foretelling real events-" His hand rested on his chin in thought. "How was I to know that that king would be me? I couldn't have." Merlin awkwardly placed his hand on Arthur's shoulder for comfort before changing the subject.

"Let's go for a walk. I think we could both do with some fresh air." Arthur nodded, and they slipped on their suede jackets before departure.

\----------------------------------------------------

"So this is London," Merlin commented as they strode down the crowded streets. In the distance Big Ben chimed, indicating that it was now 12.00 in the afternoon. As they walked Arthur asked some very difficult questions, which Merlin did his best to answer. Many were about the world as it was today; the people, the culture, the country's boundaries. His friend would point out various historical buildings and landmarks at times to illustrate his tales, with a side comment here and there about what really happened and how the history books had either dampened down the misfortunes or exalted the successes upon pedestals of exaggerated praise. But there was one nagging question that would not disengage itself from Arthur's mind, so he decided to draw it out into the open and be rid of it.

"Where's Camelot today? I mean- I don't expect it to still be named "Camelot," but on a map, what would it be called now?" The silence lengthened as Merlin failed to answer. "Merlin?" The sorcerer cleared his throat before replying.

"Yes. Sorry. Arthur... Camelot was burnt to the ground around two hundred years or so after your death. We were invaded by Saxons, and when they came through they set fire to everything. That's why so much truth about our lives has been lost and overrun with legend and myth. Any records were lost in the flames. I tried so hard to put it out, Arthur." His voice broke, and those intense blue eyes glistened with tears. "Honestly, I did. But nothing could quench them. As soon as one building was put out it was relit by a passing Saxon running wild with a torch. I made it rain, but it was too overgrown by the time I was able to do so.

There was nothing for it, so I ran to the lower levels in the hope of finding survivors. There were children there, children from as old as sixteen to as young as two. So frightened, so alone. Hiding- praying- that they wouldn't be found. And when they saw me, I could see the hope in their eyes. Someone to save them. I promised I'd return, but there was one thing I had to do first.

The round table was already smouldering from the heat of the burning timber as the citadel fell. It burst into flames when I had passed it; the symbol of everything Camelot had stood for reduced to ash within minutes. I found what I had been looking for and returned to the children, leading them out through the burial vaults. We reached the forest by sunrise, and what a sight the morning beheld. The greatest and most beautiful of cities burning, the stone crumbling against the blunt force of battering rams. Smoke dirtying the sky as it rose from the broken towers. The clashing of metal on metal and the cries of battle slowly fading away as the Saxons emerged victorious.

I took them to the Druids, and stayed with them as long as those children lived. I felt it my duty after all that had happened. And for a time I was at peace, but I've never forgotten the day I lost my home." A tear slid down Merlin's face, and he wiped it angrily away. Arthur himself felt the water well in his eyes; the picture his friend had painted was so vivid and full of reality that he could envision himself there as Camelot came crashing down around him. He didn't want to bring the subject back up again, but knew he needed to ask.

"What was it that you had to get before it fell into the hands of the Saxons? For you to even consider leaving a group of children in the tunnels like that, it must have been important."

"It was." Merlin answered, his hand running along the back of his neck before finding what he was searching for. He took Arthur's hand and dropped something familiar yet heavy into the palm, closing the fingers over it. The object was metal, and had obviously been hanging from Merlin's neck which explained the threaded cord.

"I kept it safe for you." Said the dark-haired young man with a sad smile. Opening his fingers, Arthur saw his signet ring lying in the palm of his hand. Gingerly he picked it up by the black, thin rope tied in a knot and slipped it over his head, letting the adornment become lost underneath his burgundy jacket. It felt... Right to have it again, like he was just a bit more whole somehow. Not that he was complete. His sword- and Guinevere- were still lacking. One of the two he could acquire. The other... Impossible. No one could ever replace her, and there had been a few who had tried in vain.

"Thanks, Merlin." They continued walking aimlessly about until the sun began to set, at which point they started back towards the flat. It was dark when they reached the glass doors, and Arthur looked to the sky to find the stars hard to see. Following his gaze, Merlin commented sadly,

"The lights from the city pollute the atmosphere. I remember when we could see every single one in a clear winter sky, and how we took it for granted. Now when I look up at the stars I regret not appreciating it when it was there."

"Yeah," Arthur murmured absentmindedly, searching for the rosy-gold speck of light which had always intrigued him since he was a child and had been so easy to see out his window. He was dismayed not to find it; the light pollution had blotted it out. Merlin was about to put his fingers around the door handle when it flew open, sorcerer and king falling in a tangle of limbs as he flew back into Arthur. Out ran Bryrdan into the London street to immediately get hit by a cab.

"Bryrdan!" Merlin shouted in horror. The cab screamed to a halt, and the cabbie got out to see what he'd run over. And there was Bryrdan clinging on to the hood, taloned feet punching through the metal with wings outspread to their maximum to keep his balance. The small dragon leaped into the air and glided to safety, sitting like a gargoyle on a large stone fencepost.

"Don't ever do that to me again!" Merlin reprimanded his reptilian friend. The noble lizard shook out his wings, tail coiling in pleasure.

"It felt good to stretch my wings," Bryrdan remarked insolently with a yawn.

"What were you doing out here anyway?" Merlin muttered. "People can't see you. Not like they used to, when no one cared." As he was speaking he helped Arthur back to his feet, and both men brushed themselves off irritatedly. By this time, the cabbie had recovered his wits and was asking the obvious question:

"What is that thing?" Merlin sighed and exchanged an annoyed glance with the small dragon, as if to say, "This is your fault." Before walking over to the poor man.

"Swefn, ond ofergitan." He said, resting his hand on the man's shoulder. Arthur watched with interest as the man's eyes closed almost immediately and his head drooped on his shoulders. Merlin beckoned him over, and the two men dragged him back to his cab.

"What did you say, anyway?" The blonde asked while this task was being accomplished.

"I told him to sleep, and forget."

"Right... So you're telling me he won't remember what happened when he sees the state of the hood of his- what did you call it? A cab?" Merlin looked at the shredded metal and sighed.

"I blame you for this." He said to Bryrdan, who was still patiently crouching on the brick fencepost. The dragon's forked tongue flicked between his teeth in a mocking silent laugh. Sighing, Merlin walked over to the hood and placed his hand on it. Arthur saw his eyes glow a burning gold, and wherever his fingers ran along the black surface the hood repaired itself. Looking at Arthur with a mischievous glint to his eyes, he said,

"What damage? I have no idea what you're talking about." 


	7. Emrys

The young girl cringed in terror as a dagger flew by, narrowly missing her head, which had been the target.

"What do you mean you cannot find enough followers!? This is a land where Camelot no longer exists, except in the legends and myths of Britain's people!" The wild and psychotic tone softened in loudness, but continued on soft, cold, methodical: "I trust you will not fail me again." The poor young woman bowed her head in shame and fear, not daring to look up should she find her mistress's eyes. Those awful dead, black orbs!

"No, my lady Morgana. It won't happen again-"

"My lady! I think you should see this." Called one of the other girls, her Brazilian accent thick in her words. Morgana gave her permission for the young woman to approach, and she did; eyes sparkling in evil joy. The high priestess took one look at what the girl had on the iPad and screamed. The girl cowered, stammering:

"But- my lady! He has magic! I thought... You wanted more like us!"

"EMRYS!" Screamed the witch, voice red and black with anger and hatred. But underneath, the first young girl thought she detected something else: fear. Underlying everything was a deep, innate fear of the man who had killed her, destroyed everything she had worked for. And it gave her hope. Morgana's voice altered not in strength.

"He will not ruin all I have built again! You!" She snarled, pointing at the first girl, who jumped.

"Y-ye-yes, m-my la-lady?"

"It seems you have a chance to redeem yourself. Find him, and kill him. Now leave my sight!" And with that the girl fled from the dark and dingy flat, up the stinking alley, and burst into the slightly fresher air. She caught a cab to London, hyperventilating with worry. This was her one chance to be free. If she could just summon the courage to approach Emrys and ask for forgiveness, there might be hope for this world. Oh, what had she gotten herself into!?

\----------------------------------------------

When the girl had left, Morgana rose from her throne. It was really an old recliner, but also the best that could be found under the circumstances. Striding with her dark dress flowing behind, the high priestess looked into the cauldron- or clay bowl- filled with water. The surface rippled, and soon the image of Merlin was seen in its depths. He was walking up a flight of steps next to Arthur.

Exclaiming in anger, she smacked her hand against the water to rid herself of the image it contained.

"Gather the faithful. We're proceeding ahead of schedule," she whispered to the girl still standing in her presence.


	8. Partners in Crime

Yet another night, two in the morning, and Arthur couldn't sleep. He'd been in the early twenty-first century for a little over a week now, slowly coming to terms with everything that entailed. But still he couldn't shake the insomnia which accompanied it. He now wished for the days when Merlin would wake him in the most unconventional ways. Glancing over at the clock to see that it was now three in the morning, he sighed. There was nothing for it.

Picking up Merlin's journal, he located the position of the satin strip attached to the spine and in doing so his current reading position. 

" _-Arthur and I came back to Camelot only to find everyone except Morgana asleep. Morgause had cast a spell and resurrected the knights of Medhir, taking the place of the original witch who had created them and enchanting the king's ward at the same time. From her magic poured out to render everyone else asleep, which was why she was the only one awake. At the time I thought that her magic was protecting her, but when I too began to feel the drowsiness affect me I realised that that was not the case. I sought the Great Dragon's advice, and he explained that the power source must be destroyed for everyone to wake. But that meant killing a friend, and unless completely necessary with no other alternative was I going to do that._

_Arthur was doing his best to hold off our attackers as Morgana and I tended to Uther. I remember thinking as he kicked one of the undead knights down a flight of stairs that, even if one was already dead, that would still have hurt. We dragged our king into the thrown room and sealed the doors after, Arthur and I both starting to feel extremely tired. He began to nod off, so I slapped him hard across the face. Not that I didn't get some small amount of pleasure from it, but it wasn't something I particularly enjoyed doing, as he looked at me as if considering murder-_ " the ink became smudged, and sighing Arthur had to skip to the next legible paragraph. 

" _-She began to choke on the water as her air pipe slowly closed itself off. The look in her eyes at my betrayal was more than I could bear, but Morgana had to die... I was saved as Morgause burst into the council chamber. She was horrified at the sight of her sister dying upon the floor, and I bargained with her. She spoke the counter spell and withdrew the knights of Medhir, and in return I gave her the bottle of hemlock from which she could formulate a counter-spell in time. Everyone came to as she left with Morgana, and I let them assume that she had been kidnapped. I knew that it would break Uther's heart to know that she had conspired against him to bring about his downfall, and kept silent. Unfortunately, I had made a deal with Kilgarrah, and was bound by honour to complete it. He had made me promise to free him. So I did, fulfilling my oath. I would later come to regret that decision with every fibre of my being._ " Arthur placed the marker and closed the pages, lost in thought. So it had been Merlin who had set the dragon free. 

That time when he had said he was sorry, and Arthur had asked why; he just was. He had been sorry for letting Kilgarrah loose. But there had been no choice, and the former king understood that. But now so many things were beginning to make sense about his life as he read through this journal, so many coincidences, dead ends, and mysterious miraculous recoveries suddenly explained- 

A crash in the outside corridor snapped him out of his musings. Within a split second, Arthur had raced down the hall and flung the door open to Merlin's room. At first he had a hard time identifying where exactly his friend had got off to, until he spotted an arm come up above the bed and flop back down. 

"Merlin?" He called. A sort of whimpering gasp repeated several times was the only answer Arthur received. Deducing that he was probably having a bad dream, the blonde grabbed Merlin by the shoulders and shook him awake. A final scream, both high in pitch and volume, emanated from the sorcerer's lips before he came to; much to the chagrin of Arthur, who now was deaf for a short while in one ear as a result. 

"Arthur!" He exclaimed, deep blue eyes wild in panic. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Merlin sat on the sofa, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular. He didn't even notice when Arthur draped a blanket over his shoulders. The trauma of the experience had induced a thorough shock which was affecting his motor systems for the time being. Arthur, for his part, was dozing off in the recliner. 

"It was... Cold. Dark, and frigid." Having full hearing restored to him at last, Arthur wondered if he had been dreaming or if Merlin had actually said something. 

"Her eyes. So... So dead, Arthur. Just- nothing. There's nothing left of the woman she once was. The good person's gone. Completely wiped from existence as if she'd never walked the earth. All that's left is the hate of those final years before... Before Camlann. Before the war."

"Alive at last!" Arthur exclaimed in mocking surprise before assessing the seriousness of what Merlin had just said. "So... You had a dream about what happened all those years ago, or what?" Merlin shook his head. 

"I wish it were just that, but no. It was so real. It's happening right now. I had a vision about what is, and what is to come."

"But Morgana's dead!" Arthur replied, enunciating the last word very clearly. The look in Merlin's eyes unsettled him. It was far away. Disengaged from the present and looking to the future. 

"So were you, once." He suddenly clasped his hands together in a resounding clap before ruffling his hair with his fingers. "That's the missing piece to the puzzle! The thing I've been looking for!"

"What is?" Asked Arthur, not sure he wanted to know the answer. 

"You!"

"Me!?"

"Yes; why did you come back? There had to have been a reason- up till now I've been looking in all the wrong places. I've been looking back through history, but not in the here and now." Arthur opened his mouth to make a comment, but was stopped by a hand. "Shut up. I need to find the answer." Merlin closed his eyes and inhaled long and deep, letting the oxygen flow out of his lungs and into his blood. He connected to the world, being as one with all it was a part of. Sifting through several irrelevant chunks of information and zeroing in on what was most important, the legendary sorcerer's eyes grew wide with horror. Arthur literally watched his pupils dilate from the adrenaline rush from whatever he'd found was giving him. 

"They resurrected her, Arthur. The Sisterhood brought her back."

"Why do I get the feeling that isn't a good thing?" Arthur muttered. "So come on then; how does this apply to me?"

"You're the Once and Future King. Because Morgana came back, you did too. To protect Albion. We need to do some reconnaissance. Come on!" And with that, he dashed out the door of the flat with Arthur doing his best to catch up behind. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

Merlin's first priority was time. He felt there was precious little of it left, and halfway to the station realised that there was no way he'd be getting Arthur on a train. Spotting a car parked on the side of the road- it was right in front of a no parking sign- he darted over.

"ætýne," he murmured and the doors unlocked. It was a very nice car, a Land Rover, and Merlin felt only slightly guilty about commandeering it. Arthur climbed into the left-hand side and stared at him sceptically. 

"You're sure this is legal?"

"Of course not! But we're not stealing it, just..."

"Borrowing without returning?"

"Yes!" Arthur rolled his eyes, but consented with a shake of his head. The car roared into life of its own accord, and Merlin slammed his foot down on the gas pedal. Arthur looked out the window just in time to see a man dressed in checkered pants and a short-sleeve shirt with the words "#1 Footballer" written on it shouting in anger with arms waving wildly in the air. Most likely the owner of the car. 

The road began to swim in front of the former king, and his stomach felt as if it were being thrown upside down. Lamp posts flew by in a blur of light, and coloured spots began to dance wherever he looked. Either he was going to be sick, or black out, or both.

"Merlin!" He shouted. "Slow down!" They passed a sign limiting the speed of vehicles to 25mph. He knew for a fact that they definitely weren't going that slow. Something darted out in front of the Rover, and they swerved far into the opposite lane.

"Cats," the sorcerer muttered. "People should really lock their cat flaps at night." Arthur shook his head and closed his eyes, hanging on to the seat for dear life by his fingers and waited for the final impact when they ran into something. When it would all be over; again. After what seemed like hours, but in reality only around seven minutes, the blaring of sirens was after them.

"Great." Merlin sighed, taking his foot off the gas and letting the Land Rover cruise to a gentle halt. "Just what we need: police."

"Oh, I don't know. I'm kind of happy to see them." Murmured Arthur, his vision refocusing and his heart back in his chest where it belonged instead of his throat. Merlin rolled his eyes as he also rolled down the window, and when the policeman walked up he had assumed an innocent expression. Arthur had read his features and done the same, simply grateful to be at a standstill.

"Sir, do you have any idea how fast you were going?" He asked in a thick Irish accent. His companion took out a notepad and pen, ready to jot down a ticket. 

"Oh, no. Somewhere around thirty? Thirty-five?" Merlin answered sweetly with a smile. 

"More like ninety-seven." Replied the officer with a frown.

"I'll need to see your identification and your friend's, please."

"Oh, he doesn't have any. He left it back home." 

"Uh huh. I suppose next you're going to tell me that you don't have a license either."

"No, I do." The dark-haired young man said, rummaging around in his coat pocket. "Here."NThe two policemen examined the ID, and said,

"I think we have a problem here."

"And what would that be?" 

"Well, unless you've found some really good anti-ageing cream and dyed your hair, I doubt this is you." The officer said, holding out the license. On it was a picture of a very old man; scruffy white hair and beard. Arthur leaned over Merlin's shoulder to inspect the image.

"You didn't age very well, did you?" He remarked snidely. 

"Shut up."

"And why are neither of you wearing seat belts, might I ask?" The second officer inquired sternly.

"We... Were in a hurry?" Merlin answered lamely, glaring at Arthur as he sighed loudly. At that moment a fresh burst of static came over the police car radio, and the first policeman left to hear what base had to say. He returned shortly with a look in his eyes that made the two aspiring criminals feel very uncomfortable. 

"Just got word in of a stolen black Land Rover."

"That settles it, then." The first officer said. "We're taking these two down to the station."

"Thought so." Eyeing Merlin and Arthur, the second officer said in a mockingly proper voice, "Would you gentlemen care to step out of the vehicle please?"


	9. A Friend from the Past

Morgana paced around the clearing, her lip curling in distaste at the spot where she knew she'd been buried. She made her way over to the sword standing un-aged by the elements underneath a very old, dead tree. The marker rocks had long since disintegrated into the earth, leaving only brown grass beginning to creep into the lifeless dirt as the centre of the clearing became farther and farther away.

"Mordred, séo beadu sy ne þágíet ofer. Úre géosceaft sy ne fullendian. Mín aaron gita treddede þes eormengrund, fréond. Béoþ géosceafta wæs niðerhryres, ðu ond ic. Nú sy brachwílum sylfum óretlof! Náhwæðer Artur nymðe Emrys apæ beliehe hit nú. Forþræse, ond bregustól be mín síde. Séo nímwlíc ældu mærsereas sum nímwlíc foreweardnes, sum nímwlíc foldweg sylfum æ. Cuman mec. ðu béo geboren ábréoðe Pendragon, Artur's-þung. Cuman mec, Mordred. Bútan ðu, gesig wilne béon hylu geblædfæstnes." And with that she uprooted the gleaming metal and laid it flat on the ground. The dirt began to sift itself apart from underneath the surface, and an evil smile rested on Morgana's lips as a hand burst into the open and grasped the sword hilt firmly. The soil seemed to collapse in on itself, until out of the hole walked Mordred. The ground sealed itself up afterwards, leaving the dead earth smooth.

"My lady," he said with a bow.

"Mordred. Now come; we have much to do and little time with which to accomplish it." The dark knight followed her out of the clearing, relishing the look of horror they were receiving from one of the young girls. 


	10. Jailbirds

Arthur winced as a policeman did a pat down and discovered the dagger he had acquired not too long ago. The man drew it out of his inner coat pocket and unsheathed it for inspection. He let out a whistle at the fine workmanship put into the small blade.

"Fit for a king, eh? And sharp, too. Take many strolls down dark alleyways do you, sir?" The blonde purposefully avoided eye contact with Merlin, who he knew would be foaming at the mouth with smoke coming out his ears by this point. 

"Maybe," Arthur muttered under his breath. "It's not like you know what I get up to in my spare time." The uniformed man shot him a withering glance. 

"I'd let us out if I were you." His dark-haired companion warned. "Or you'll regret it." The man was still fingering the knife, and completely ignored Merlin.

"You do realise this length of blade is illegal to carry, don't you?" He turned to Arthur, who had a blank look on his face. "Apparently not. My, my. The felonies just keep piling up, don't they?" 

"For the last time." Merlin said in an even and emotionless, low voice. It warranted no argument. "Let us go, or you'll regret it." Arthur looked back at his jailer, hoping that Merlin had inflicted a kind of mind control over him. Unfortunately, no. The guard leaned in with an arrogant look on his face.

"And what happens if I say no? What are you going to do, handcuff me to the wall? Come on, show me. Hit me with your best shot." Merlin simply glared at him. This only goaded the officer to continue. "Give me one good reason why I should let you out." The two young men glanced at each other, and Arthur indicated with a nod of his head that Merlin should be the one to speak. The warlock shrugged.

"Fine. That's King Arthur, I'm Merlin, and Morgana is going to try and destroy the world."

\-----------------------------------------------------------

"Great. Now they think we're criminals AND crazy." Arthur muttered as they were ushered into a cell. "What possessed you to tell them what was really going on?"

"Lying didn't get us anywhere last time, so I figured I'd tell the truth. Either way, they wouldn't have believed us." 

"So now what are we going to do? This is only temporary, or else they'd have taken these binders off and given us those pretty outfits that the rest of the prisoners are wearing."

"Relax, Arthur. I'll get us out of here in a few moments." He turned his attention to the metal cuffs binding his hands behind his back, and his eyes burned gold. The handcuffs snapped apart instantaneously, and a few moments later so did Arthur's. Rubbing his wrists the Pendragon commented,

"Handy. This explains how you always managed to escape when people captured us."

"Sure." Merlin's eyes burned gold again, and this time he whispered,

"Tospringe!" And the cell door flew off its hinges. "Now let's get out of here." They made their way back down the corridor toward the front doors, ignoring the astonished looks on the other inmate's faces and their pleas to be taken with them. Every now and again they'd encounter a guard, but Arthur would knock them out before they could so much as utter a whimper. They reached the checkpoint.

Once again the barred metal doors flew out of the frame and into opposite wall, and the crash of a mug echoed through the room as the warden's coffee was knocked to the floor. He didn't have time to activate the alarm, and Arthur said with satisfaction while the cuffs locked around the man's wrists and the wall,

"We did give you fair warning. You have no one to blame but yourself." And raced after Merlin out into the fresh air. The warden slumped against the bricks, too shocked to form an intelligent reply.

"Here," his friend murmured as he threw the dagger in its sheath over to Arthur. "It's too nice a blade to let them get their hands on." 

"Thanks. So where to now? Reconnaissance? We can "acquire" a vehicle again."

"No..." Merlin inhaled sharply, then set off at a brisk pace. "Follow me!" The two friends dodged and weaved through traffic until the sorcerer spotted what he was looking for.

"I should have gone this route in the first place," he muttered. They raced down the steps into the tube station, and when they pulled out from the platform Arthur closed his eyes.

"Tell me when we're there," he instructed Merlin, who was just glad that he'd been able to coax his king aboard in the first place. 


	11. Dead Ends

Mairin glanced at her guidance stone and sighed in frustration. Ever since Morgana had sent her off to redeem herself, the young sorceress had had one goal in mind: escape. Part of her knew that, wherever she went, her mistress would find her. But when she'd seen Mordred rise from the ground after her first unsuccessful foray, she had fled. Now, the stone which should have given her easy directions to the king and his friend was firing off extremely confusing data.

"Just give me a straight answer!" She growled in frustration. The stone became extremely agitated, and Mairin realised that Emrys would be shielding himself from such a simple means of tracking. Sighing, she muttered,

"I guess I'll just have to find you the old-fashioned way, then. By looking."


	12. A Cave Full of Crystals

When the train slowed to their exit, Merlin said,

"We get off here." Arthur silently followed him out into the early morning sunlight; the beautiful creamy rose and orange sky slowly drawing the mist into its milken canvas was fresh and young. It was a far smaller city than London had been, the sky clearer and freer of the city's grasp. There were fewer people and cars, and both felt as if they could breathe more easily with the sudden space about them.

"We should be able to continue on foot from here." Merlin murmured, thinking aloud. "Though the path may have steepened in recent years. I haven't been here for a while."

"And how long is a while?" Arthur asked.

"Oh... Eighty years, give or take?" The warlock estimated with an uncertain quality to his voice. "Maybe more."

"Enough time for this place to go through a few radical changes though, huh?"

"Yep."

"Great." Arthur stated with a small dose of sarcasm. "Let's get going."

\-----------------------------------------------------

"Are you sure we're going the right way?" It was still early morning, and though they had been tramping through the forest for half an hour their destination remained nowhere in sight.

"I'm sure it's around here somewhere..." Merlin called back. Arthur shook his head. If not for the change of clothes and the absence of any weapons, he would almost have believed that they were going hunting. Oh, and Merlin wasn't complaining. So that was three things that, if they were present, would have turned this expedition into a hunting trip.

"Arthur! Over here!" Merlin's voice echoed through the trees, and the former king raced to catch up with it. Suddenly, the forest seemed... Familiar. He knew where they were. How could that be? A crumbling statue marked the entrance to a ditch down a steep flight of moss-laden stairs, sheer rock walls rising high and rough on either side.

"The Valley of the Fallen Kings," he breathed in wonder. The air seemed to be charged and thick, which, over the years, Arthur had come to recognise as the feeling of magic in a sacred place of the Old Religion. He no longer feared an attack by bandits, and as a result could sense the magic coursing through the old stones. Merlin was eyeing a well-hidden cave that his friend had seen many times, though he had dismissed it as unimportant. They walked into the cave mouth and were immediately plunged into darkness. He heard no voice, but an orb of glowing bluish light sprang to life and hovered in the air. Merlin's hand moved, directing the path it took. They walked this way for a little while before the orb disappeared, and presently Arthur became aware of another source of light shining in the tunnel. The walls widened in height and width and opened into a giant cavern, filled with countless collections of crystals all glowing a light blue.

"Welcome to the Crystal Cave," Merlin exhaled. His breath came out in a cloud of vapour, but Arthur hadn't noticed any change in temperature. His own breath was visible, and a cool wind was moving through the cavern. It was soft, and whispering voices echoed through the beautiful cave.

"He has come."

"Emrys."

"Albion's time of need is nye."

"Dark forces are rising again."

"The round table is made anew."

"Sword and sorcery."

"Yes; the inseparable pair."

"A Pendragon has come to our home."

"Arthur..."

The last voice was sickeningly sweet and achingly familiar. It lingered far longer than the others, fading slowly into silence.

"What is this place?" Arthur asked.

"It is... The birthplace of all magic. The forces of the Old Religion can be most strongly felt here. The crystals... Harness that power and can show those who look into them the future. Nothing is set in stone, but it is a way to guess at what may take place. Time has no meaning here. That which is, that which was, and that which will come to pass. They all exist at once in this cave. Reality is a thin line that can be bent in so many ways within this cavern." Arthur looked about him. Wherever he turned there the crystals were, shining with their own inner light and radiating an innate desire to do great deeds. Fell giants, climb mountains, sail the seas.

"How do you know what it is you are seeing when you look into the crystals?" Merlin paused to think for a moment.

"It takes many years of practise, but eventually you know what to find when you go searching through their facets. I'm sorry, Arthur, but this will take a lot of concentration." He said, bending down to stare at a particularly thick cluster of the priceless stones.

"Right." Arthur answered, turning away and walking deeper into the cave. For a short period of time nothing out of the ordinary happened, but presently he began to feel the familiar chill rise up his spine. He was being followed. Whipping around with flawless footwork and years of practise, Camelot's king came face to face with a woman of mournful beauty and grace. Any girl would pay handsomely to look like she did.

Her outline was strange, yet he felt he should know it. Her long blonde hair waved in natural tides, falling below her shoulders and pulled back by two braids tied together to keep it out of her eyes. And they were of a beautiful light blue, richer than the sky but paler by an almost unnoticeable shade. She wore a flowing silvery white summer gown, which was being swept by the slight wind in the cave. He felt the need to look away, and caught their reflections in a pool of clear water. The same hair, the same eyes. Arthur had often wondered what his mother looked like, because he and his father had been as different in appearance as in personality.

"Arthur." Ygraine's voice was like silk to his ears, musical and sweet.

"Mother?" He whispered, hardly daring to believe. The last time he had seen her- at the invitation of Morgause- he had had his dreams dashed. But this... It felt right. Her smile revealed straight, white teeth.

"You have yet to know all that is meant to be revealed to you, my son. I come now to bear a warning."

"How can you be real?"

"As Emrys said: "Reality is a thin line that can be bent in so many ways within this cavern." You must beware, Arthur. Morgana's forces are rising faster than even Emrys has foreseen in these crystals. Go to the Pavilion of Eternal Light and place the dragon on the pedestal. Have care, my son. And know that I love you." Her form began to fade.

"Wait, mother! Don't-” with a gust of wind she was gone. Arthur sighed, wishing he could have spent even one more moment with her. Merlin had probably felt the same about his father. Speaking of Merlin...

"Arthur!" His dark-haired companion called nearer to the opening of the cave. Shaking his head to clear it of the confusion now clouding his judgement, the blonde rejoined his friend.

"I've been shown the present. Morgana is amassing an army of the dead to overthrow the world. She wants revenge, and not just against you and I. She wanted the whole planet to burn in her wrath, and her misfortunes will only be repaid when smoke rises from the ruined cities and blood runs like crimson rivers down the streets. Unfortunately, she will have sensed my... Curiosity. A handful of thugs she's hired to spy out the land have been tasked to put an end to us." 

The clatter of stones rolling down the broken path thrummed through the sound-conducting rock, alerting the two young men to the presence of several intruders upon their privacy. Tiptoeing to the cave mouth and peering up the ever-steepening slope, they saw that all twelve men were clumsily making an awkward descent, to which both Arthur and Merlin smirked. They walked into a more open area, knowing better than to let themselves become trapped in a less manoeuvrable spot. The brutes spotted them immediately.

"Only twelve? Morgana must think us easy prey." The blonde taunted. As more men came up from behind, the warlock answered,

"Or she's smart enough not to send everyone in a frontal assault."

"That's ever been your problem Merlin; always the pessimist."

"There's more than twelve."

"Twelve for me, twelve for you."

"Ah. Divide and conquer?"

"Exactly."

"Shut up!" One of the would-be assassins growled. They closed in on the two, guns cocked and ready for use. "We have a job to do. I'd like to get paid as quickly as possible." Merlin rolled his eyes.

"Arthur, you may want to stand closer to me." He murmured telepathically, a technique which still disturbed the Pendragon because of its lack of privacy. The blonde consented, edging nearer to his friend. Immediately Merlin threw his hands out in front of him and his eyes burned a blazing gold.

"Ácéoce!" He shouted. A wall of flame sprang up in a circle around them, and the men backed away.

"You should have left us alone," Arthur commented. "Or else you'd still be alive by sunrise tomorrow." The fire leaped from the ring onto the garments of their persecutors, enveloping the cloth and searing the flesh. Their protective wall evaporated in a hiss of steaming smoke as they made a break for it, dashing through the trees and taking great care not to trip in rabbit holes. They paused for breath only when they reached the edge of the forest with open land in plain sight of the city right at hand.

"That's twenty-four for me and... Zero for you? You're out of practise." Merlin lightly teased in between pants.

"Give me a break. I've been asleep for a few hundred or so years." Arthur retorted.

\----------------------------------------------------------

"-And she said that you needed to place the dragon on the pedestal at the Pavilion of Eternal Light."

"Yes. None of it made any sense to me; I was hoping it would to you." Merlin sighed, rubbing his hands together as a fierce, chill wind had sprung up. They were now sitting beside a fire just within the shelter of the trees, and it felt to both of them tantalisingly familiar.

"Sorry. The Pavilion was said to have been lost centuries ago, even before the time of the great purge. It's location was wiped from existence, though recent discoveries into the ancient text have compared its likeness to the citadel of Atlantis-"

"The Lost Isle?"

"Afraid so." Arthur shook his head in exasperation.

"Great. Let's find Atlantis then. We should just make a list of seven impossible things to accomplish and attempt to complete one each day in a week."

"It does have a likeness to our predicament," Merlin conceded tiredly. "But for now let's work on getting some sleep."

"Sounds like a deal to me." They spent the night in the protection of the trees, dousing the fire at first light and heading back toward civilisation. As they were passing by an alley opening when the sky was just beginning to lighten; a time when the street lights were turned off but the sun had not yet risen, a rustling noise captivated their attention. It held all the qualities of a human to human conflict and suggested at robbery. Arthur immediately went on the alert, his muscles tensed for the slightest movement required, and Merlin followed him down the grunge-covered alley. 


	13. Mairin

"-I said you was trouble from the moment I laid eyes on you!" A man shouted. 

"Monsieur, je veut mes-"

"Now shut it frenchie. I was tasked to end your pathetic excuse of a life by the lady. And that's what I'm going to do. You're a traitor to your people!" He raised his hand to strike her face, already streaked with tears and blood, but found that his arm had been restrained.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Arthur said in an even voice. The man at first seemed insulted by the unwanted intervention, but soon became fearful as he found that he could not break the blonde's iron grip. 

"If you value your life, leave." The Pendragon released the man's wrist, which he rubbed as he rounded on the younger man. Merlin had bent down to care for the girl, who cringed away from his touch. He looked up just in time to see Arthur engage in a fistfight with her attacker, and pointedly ignored them to care for his most recent charge. 

"Tu t'es fait mal?" (Are you hurt?) The girl shook her head no.

"Je parle anglais, Monsieur." (I speak English, sir.)

"Are you sure? Some of those cuts look nasty." Merlin continued in English.

"I'm fine." She flinched as her assailant was thrown into a graffiti-infested brick wall. He'd received a forceful roundhouse kick to the ribs, and he slid down to the ground out of commission. 

"Told you," Arthur said satisfactedly. "I'm perfectly capable of winning a fistfight

_without_ your help. You really ought to think before you open your mouth, Merlin." The girl's eyes went wide at the mention of the famed sorcerer, and wider still when the warlock spoke.

"I would do Arthur, if you bothered listening to what I say." Their charge fell to her knees and began to cry. Her hair fell into her face with its beautiful auburn curtain obscuring her deep sea-blue eyes, and Merlin brushed the strands back behind her ears. They were like an ocean after a storm, those eyes. 

"What's the matter?" He asked in confusion. It wasn't a cry of relief, but one of guilt and sorrow. 

"Forgive me, Emrys. I have fallen from the path my ancestors laid out for me."

"What??" Arthur responded, immensely confused. 

"She means the Druids," Merlin explained. "The mark of the Triskelion is tattooed on the inside of her wrist, here." He pointed to the swirling lines. 

"There are still groups of us that exist," she continued in a soft wail. "I was disinherited; my skill was not adept enough. My parents were dead, and I have no brothers or sisters. I was alone. But then I found the Sisterhood. They welcomed me- if I had known then what I know now I would never have gone to them. Forgive me!"

"It's okay." Merlin soothed. "Come on, let's get out of this alley." She nodded, though seemed unconvinced that everything was all right. The poor girl had seen so much wrong with the world already. They walked into the early morning and found a coffee shop, where Merlin bought them all cups of the black liquid. Arthur eyed it suspiciously, clearly unwilling to drink anything that resembled mud. But the girl, after a few sips, began to calm down. Her nerves were still shaken badly, but her latte had helped to bring her out of that shock.

"I was there... When Morgana came back. When we brought her back. I helped perform the spell. And the horror which she brought with her might have been gladly received by the others, but not by me. I have heard tales of Camelot, being raised as I was by the Druids. And for what I have done, I am truly sorry-"

"You don't have to apologise," Arthur interrupted. "What's done is done. Why should you feel the need to do so to us, seeing as we are merely the ones who rescued you?" The girl glanced at him, then at Merlin, who pointedly avoided speaking by choosing the moment to take a long pull of his coffee.

"Because you are my king, my lord. I know the legends better than the books. And I read that you would return to defend Albion when its need was most dire. After witnessing the rebirth of Morgana, nothing could be surer in my mind than the fact that that time was now."

"What's your name?" Merlin quietly asked.

"Mairin." The warlock smiled. 

"Star of the sea. A Gaelic name, yet you are French." Mairin looked into her coffee sheepishly.

"It's not my real name, but it _is_ the one I have chosen. You of all people should understand my decision to remain unknown, Emrys. You lived during the time of the ban." Arthur looked away, unable to meet his friend's gaze, and tentatively took a sip of his coffee. 

"Forgive me, Emrys. I have shamed the kindness you gave to my ancestors. I am descended from one of the children you saved from the fires of the Saxons."

"I do. I'm not Morgana, Mairin. There was never any question of my forgiving you. You were just trying to fit in. I can't blame you for something on that charge, now can I?" He finally succeeded in getting a smile out of her, and they were rejoined by Arthur.

"What kind of drink is this?" He asked.

"Coffee?" Mairin answered uncertainly, still not quite at ease around the former king. 

"Why couldn't we have invented this back in our time!? This is amazing! If I didn't know better, I'd use the term 'magical.' "

"Many would agree with you," Merlin commented with a grin. 


	14. The Pavilion of Eternal Light

"What took you so long?" Arthur asked impatiently, stopping in his pacing to address his friend. Merlin rolled his eyes at the Pendragon's impatience.

"I sent Mairin back to my flat. Bryrdan can look after her, and we need to start looking for Atlantis. Mairin says that Morgana raised Mordred back into our world..." He trailed off. There was nothing more to be said. Arthur felt an uncontrollable shiver run through his body at the name of the boy who had so indifferently- joyously even- killed him. Swallowing, he asked,

"So where do we start?" 

"We need a map." Merlin knew that he was being given the classic 'seriously?' Look from his king, but turned to see his reaction anyway. Exactly as he'd predicted.

"A map. Any particular kind, or could we make one using wax and parchment?" Merlin shot him a withering glance.

"No, it's not that kind of map. It's called a Seeker Map, and needs a very particular surface to be read upon. In this case, a big clearing bare of any boulders or bushes. Just grass. Flat. And considering where we are at the moment..."

"There was a clearing back that way, wasn't there? In the forest, so it's out of view."

"Any rocks?"

"A few."

"Good enough." They set off back through the trees until they found the clearing, and after a little persuasion had moved the troublesome stones to the edge where they wouldn't be a problem. 

"So do you need me to do anything?" Arthur asked. Merlin nodded. 

"If you could stand right where that last rock we moved used to be, it'll give me a point of reference."

"Okay..." That had probably been the weirdest thing anyone had ever said to him. And he'd heard a _lot_ of strange requests... Nevertheless, the Pendragon did as instructed and looked back to see that Merlin had moved to the centre of the open clearing. 

"Scéawende þá gewillinga sylfum se bréostgeþanc heáfodsién. Lættewestre se rihtweg." He whispered in a low, gravelly tone of voice. Arthur was slightly surprised that he didn't cough after saying it; it was right in the area of the voice that hurt the throat. A breeze began to wind its way through the long grass, soft and gentle at first. It sprang up into a forceful blow which moved the heaviest branches in the encircling trees. It was then that a mist swirled foggily out of the silky green stalks, gathering in density and being carried by the wind to weave itself in a continuous loop around Arthur. 

"Uh... Merlin? It's supposed to be doing that, right?" 

"Yeah. Just- don't touch the mist. All right?"

"Got it." The vapours settled in a thick cloud around the blonde's feet, and then part of it separated from the rest and began to inch its way across the rest of the clearing. Here and there a clustre would settle, varying in size and height. It became sort of three-dimensional, as out of the mist there presently began to appear the outlines of buildings and roads. Hills and cliffs rose out of the overlying layer, and forests could be identified by the tree-like quality given to some of the denser areas. Open land was untouched by the cloud come down from the sky, showing that it was flat. A curious shape began to form at the far end opposite Arthur, and it was then that Merlin closed his eyes. 

His body was left behind in the clearing as his spirit travelled the great distance to where the broken columns stood in the real world. Mist hung everywhere, as he was not there in person, but in mind with the aid of the Seeker Map. He heard Arthur calling from far away; his voice was almost completely drowned out by the roaring wind. In his mind he wished the mist away, and they revealed the Stones of Nemeten. What!? But that couldn't be right... Stonehenge, the modern name for the ancient pillars, had been made in the middle of open land as far from the sea as the stars were from earth. So how could that be the place they were looking for, as Atlantis was an island that sank beneath the ocean long ago? He again heard Arthur calling him from far off, but ignored it.

An ancient passage he'd read long ago brought itself to the front of his thoughts. The words were a burning gold that etched themselves into the stones as he recalled the text. 

"- _the way may be made clear from the Pavilion of Eternal Light, the path shown to those who seek it. It is the desire of the heart and the eye of the beholder that will find the structure of value, and the Seeing Stone will guide the way. The centre pedestal will recall old thoughts, and all that is unclear will be made as transparent as glass. Atlantis awaits; the Lost Isle will be found at last."_ The words which had previously made no sense to Merlin blazed forth and rearranged themselves into a new passage. Only bits and pieces made it in. 

" _It is through the desire of the eye of the beholder that the way may be made clear from the Pavilion of Eternal Light. The Seeing Stone, the centre pedestal, will guide the way and recall old thoughts. Atlantis awaits; the Lost Isle will be found at last."_ The revelation of the new words hit their mark. The Pedestal of Eternal Light wasn't _on_ the island of Atlantis, it was the _marker_ starting the path that would lead to the legendary Isle. The true meaning of the Stones of Nemeten, their true purpose, had been lost in the mists of time. Which meant that the stones weren't what remained of the Pavilion so much as the indication of the location. The eye of the beholder... You had to know the Pavilion was there to see it, to enter it. It was a cloaking spell, so ancient and tied to the land that it would last to the ends of the world. 

Stonehenge had never been brand new. The crumbling stones had always been on the brink of collapse, and because it was a weak point between two different realities it could also act as a gate to the spirit world if the right magic were used. So instead of focusing on the ageing rock, Merlin focused on what could not be seen. His heart's desire, the image in his mind's eye. 

The Stones of Nemeten melted away into pillars of exquisitely carved marble the colour of ivory, a floor of polished wood shining like bronze, an arched ceiling of pale red diamond, refracting a beautiful sunlight; vines were growing up the marble columns, beautiful flowers blossoming on each green tendril. In between each pillar was a silver fence, save for two sides exactly opposite each other: the entrance and the exit. 

The fence was thick as stone and shaped like it would have been if it were carved out of rock, but the silver gleamed untarnished underneath a box of flowers set on the top. Lavender and licac. The scent of their blooming flower heads filled the air, and for as far as the eye could see in either direction was undeveloped grassland of bright green quality stretching to the faint outline of pinkish mountains under a blue sky. The exit side of the pavilion, however, was right next to an ocean as striking as the Aegean Sea, but it smelled like freshwater. It was one of the most beautiful places that Merlin had ever seen. 

Arthur once again called, and Merlin slowly let himself be drawn back to the clearing filled with a three-dimensional landscape composed of mist. When he opened his eyes, they blazed briefly with his inner magic before fading away. The warlock took a deep breath, and with a shake of his head he regained focus. 

"Where you're standing, that's where we are. And all the way over there-" here he pointed to the Stones of Nemeten- "is where we need to go. The Stones of Nemeten." The mist evaporated into the afternoon sun as he spoke, and it seemed as if the clearing had never been covered in water vapour at all. 

"If we take a bus, we should get there by-"

"I'm done with modern transportation," Arthur said, cutting him off. "There's no way you'll get me into yet another machine. We're either walking or riding."

"Fair enough," Merlin replied. "We'll follow the road on foot then. Should reach Stonehenge- that's what the stones are called now- in time if we don't stop."

"Sorry? Who was the one that always wanted to take a break when we had no time to do so again? Remind me." The two friends exchanged a smile and set off to find the road.


	15. The Drawing of the Dark

Morgana wouldn't stop pacing. The Sisterhood were nervous, and even Mordred was becoming uneasy. When Morgana was unhappy, it meant someone was going to buy it. One wrong word and their neck would be snapped in two without a chance at retribution. 

"Morgana! They _will_ be located. And when they are, I will personally go to engage them myself."

"No, Mordred. I need you by my side to raise our army. One person is far easier than hundreds. And we have my two 'friends' to resurrect. Don't forget that Aithusa sleeps in the earth as well. No; I will send our-" she paused for a double-edged word- "associates will be more than a match for them." Mordred shot her a glance, and her eyes said it all. They dabbled in magic, but had no idea what they were doing. If they died it was of no consequence to her plans. 

"Yes, milady." He said with a nod of his head, the sly glint to his eye and smile showing he understood perfectly what she wanted to happen. 

As the high priestess rose to leave the dishevelled house with Mordred by her side, a splashing noise brought their attention to the cracked clay bowl filled with water. Morgana turned to inspect the image displayed in it, and smiled. 

"See that they are met with the appropriate resources." She instructed Mordred- who looked also into the bowl- before sashaying out of the room. Mordred turned to the twelve remaining girls of the Sisterhood, who stood from the dingy sofas or collapsing armchairs to recieve their instructions.

"I have a task for all of you," he began.


	16. Renaissance

Merlin was, as usual, paying less than half attention to his surroundings. So when Arthur heard the sound of a car come screaming down the road at a speed he was pretty sure there was no way it was legal to travel at, and saw that Merlin was walking right next to the hardtop within hitting range, he sprang quite literally into action. Ramming himself as hard as possible into his former manservant, they were both flung down a steep hill running parallel to the road. Their descent ended with a loud crunch, and shortly after the van had passed by the two young men walked back up the slope covered in briars. Merlin was glaring death at his king, who shrugged.

"At least we didn't fall on the sharp rocks."

"We could have landed in the stream right next to the thistle bush."

"Fine. Next time I'll let you get hit by the car instead of saving your life." Though Merlin still wanted more to strangle the blonde over rescuing him at that moment if he'd have had the choice, it was clear that he'd get over it. Both grimaced at the spiky burrs attached to their clothing and the stinging scratches they'd recieved during the initial impact of thistle bush and limbs, pulling in vain to disattach them from their garments. 

"Well, that's one shirt I won't be wearing again any time soon," the warlock muttered upon examination. His dark hair fell into his eyes as a summer wind sprang up around out of nowhere, and annoyed he brushed the black locks just long enough to cause him trouble away. 

They spent the night in a cave set into a hill. It was dry, albeit the watery curtain draped over the entrance. A small fire sprang into mysterious existence with the aid of a little magic, and Arthur employed his skills as a hunter to procure them something to eat with his dagger. He was sprawled out near the flaming wood chewing on a slightly singed strip of rabbit meat when something occurred to him.

"There probably aren't many people I can spar with anymore, are there? I mean, swordplay must seem... A useless hobby nowadays, right?"

"Not really." Merlin replied, leaning back against the rock wall with his legs stretched out facing the waterfall, one knee bent in an acute angle with the other straight. "They have a past time now called fencing. It's similar, but not close enough." He took another bite of his portion of the catch, and smiled. "I think you'd be insulted, actually. But all of those things: tournaments, jousting, sparring... They're all considered- well, Renaissance. Something out of fairy tales to be acquainted with knights in shining armour and damsels in distress."

" 'Renaissance?' Where we're from that used to mean barbaric rituals being performed by the ancient priests of the Old Religion. The uncivilised celebrations that accompanied them. You're right: I am insulted."

"My, how the world has changed. King Arthur is insulted." Merlin jibed sarcastically, looking for a flying projectile and smirking when he got what he wanted. A shoe slammed into the wall with a dull thud missing his head by barely three inches. 

"Merlin-"

"-Shut up."

"Exactly." The playful glint shone in Arthur's eyes, as it always did when they started arguing. He enjoyed having someone around who was constantly putting him in his place and unafraid of speaking up, challenging, or insulting him; refusing to treat him special just because he was royalty. It had been- and still was- Merlin's one redeeming quality... Among several that the blonde was forced to admit. 

It suddenly dawned on him that they treated each other as brothers must do. Neither of them had any siblings related by blood- in his mind, Morgana didn't count- and it was closer than friendship. They argued, they made up, they teased each other. Merlin on the topic of Guinevere when he still wouldn't express his feelings for her out loud came immediately to mind. The blonde smiled. You couldn't find two more different people thrown together than them, but from his observations of sibling relationships there was a brother-like quality to their friendship.

"Dollop-head." Merlin said, as usual having the last word. And for once Arthur decided to use one of the idiot's own inventions as a comeback.

"Clotpole." There was a brief moment of silence, then,

"Copy cat." Always with him, the last word in! And while the phrase was unfamiliar to the former king he suspected it was modern slang for stealing someone's words. 

"Will you ever change?"

"No; you'd get bored." Merlin knew he'd won when he heard a chuckle. He let the fire begin to die away, and both young men, tired from the day's exertions, quickly fell asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note as of March 2020: I am aware that this terming is incorrect, but at the time when I wrote this story I was a Junior in high school. As this is a repost, I do not intend to do any editing to this story, merely make it accessible to Ao3.


	17. Fencing

The morning was cold. For a summer morning, that is. It felt more like late fall. Merlin stood in front of the cave entrance, surveying the misty landscape. His breath could be faintly seen in the half-light, and in the country many more of the once-familiar stars he had known in his youth could be seen once more fleeing from the glare of the approaching sun.

The warlock inhaled and exhaled the cool morning air slowly, carefully, as if testing it for something. His face became concerned- reflective, even- as Arthur joined him.

"It's cold this morning," the Pendragon remarked. A cloud of breath enforced it. 

"It shouldn't be." Merlin said, turning to him. "Breath slowly. The air will be warm." Arthur did as he suggested, a look of puzzlement engulfing his face. 

"So... What? Is this a result of magic?"

"Yeah. It's Morgana."

"What's she doing? It seems weird to me; changing the weather. There's no benfit- unless she's playing some sort of angle."

"It's just a side effect of something bigger. I don't know what, but it can't be good, knowing her." Arthur nodded. They set off at a brisk pace beside the road, an occasional car passing in the early hours of the morning and slowing as it passed to make sure they didn't get hit. 

It was around 10.00 when the two walked into the city nearby Stonehenge. The sky had been gathering dark clouds since 6.25, and without warning they were ripped open. As the rain fell in relentless silver ropes from the sky, they took refuge in a building that hadn't been opened yet. There was a big open space in the centre, and Merlin decided to use this to their advantage. 

He drew from his small pack two swords. Arthur glanced at the bag briefly, accepting immediately that it was enchanted, then at the dulled blades. They hadn't been sharpened; their purpose was training. 

"You said you wanted to spar." Merlin pointed out.

"I said _spar._ As in a _challenge._ "

"I'm the best you're going to get around here. Take what you can get." Was it Arthur's imagination, or was the ghost of a smile twinkling in his friend's eyes?

With a nod of consent recieved from the blonde, Merlin backed away from him to the distance customary for starting. While Arthur supposed that he must have practised a bit over the years, it was still an impossibility in his mind that Merlin could be good at swordplay. Primarily for the reason that he had been so terrible at it when they were in Camelot all those years ago.

Nevertheless, they circled each other warily, sizing up their opponent and deciding on a strategy. Basic. Merlin made it clear that he was _not_ going to initiate the first blow, so Arthur was more than obliged to do so. 

The clang of dulled steel on steel resounded through the empty space, and it was a familiar and welcoming sound to their ears. They drew apart again before Arthur was taken entirely by surprise. Merlin rushed in, taking the offensive, and for a few minutes after everything was a blur of motion as the blonde knight was hard-pressed to keep his footing. When at last they split apart once more, both were breathing hard. 

"How did you learn to fight like that!?" He panted. Merlin's smile was ironic.

"It took me a little over a thousand years to be as good as you. Either you're the best there is, I'm just hopeless at it, or both."

"I'll go for both." The rain continued pounding on the windows and roof for a good ten minutes after the first bout, and it could be honestly said of both of them that the period was enjoyable. Friendly sparring, where either one was in need of a good bit of practice, was just the thing to pass the time. When the onslaught of the sky had eased off to a sprinkling, the session ended. 

"I haven't done that in so long," Merlin rasped as he sheathed the swords and put them back into his bag. It was a hiking backpack built for rough terrain, and perfectly suited for his country rambles. "I'd forgotten how good it was for concentration."

"Yeah. Gets your mind clear so you can figure things out." As they walked back outside, Arthur wrinkled his nose in disgust. Yet his eyes seemed to be yearning for something the world had lost while he was away. "I used to like the smell of the rain after it was over. Everything was fresh and crisp. Now there's a metallic scent to it that I don't like in the least." Merlin gave him a sympathetic look before hitching his bag over his shoulder and resuming their journey.


	18. Crumbling Stone

There was so much open farmland surrounding Stonehenge. It made the terrain look like a patchwork quilt composed of varying shades of mostly the same colour with a few wild pieces thrown in. But the view presented of the finished product was far closer to home than the steel and concrete creations thrusting themselves like jagged and blackened teeth into the sky. It was all open country; while they stuck close to the road Arthur could see just over the growing ears of wheat and corn that their destination was not far off. The worn and weathered Stones of Nemeten rose into the grey and undecided sky like a bad omen. Their presence was forbidding, and they brought back memories that the Pendragon would rather have forgotten. Each crumbling, sculpted rock seemed to signify something he had failed at and held him accountable for doing so.

"I'm not overly fond of the place myself." Merlin admitted, reading his thoughts in every movement or expression he made. Arthur rolled his eyes, masking the smile he felt beginning to creep up at the corners of his mouth. There were only two people who knew him that well: Gwen, and Merlin. An ache settled in his heart whenever he thought about her, but was lifted above despair when he heard the tread of the second's shoes on the gravelly ground beside him. 

"Just so long as we don't speak to my father, I can tolerate this journey." Merlin snorted, clearly remembering also the havoc Uther's ghost had made. "There's no telling what he'd do if he saw the world today."

"Come on; it might be an improvement." The former servant replied sarcastically. Arthur nudged him hard with his shoulder as they walked, and Merlin shoved back. They walked in silence for a little while after that, but an uneasy feeling began to creep up the knight's spine. He motioned with his hand that they should stop, and Merlin looked at him inquisitively. 

"It's too quiet." Arthur mouthed, and the sorcerer nodded. Cocking his head slightly to the right, he listened in vain for any birdsong. The rumble of an approaching car. Nothing. He opened his mouth to suggest they find some cover in the corn field, but never got the chance. A fireball whizzed through the air and landed with a small explosion on the road. A massive hole was left in its place, the poured stone cracking around the edges in wide fault lines spreading outward. Another burning sphere came flying straight at them, and was met by a wall of solid ice. 

"I wish Morgana would stop sending her goons and face us herself," Merlin said, gritting his teeth. "This must be the Sisterhood."

"Is that a problem?"

"Run." Arthur took that as a big yes and took off at full speed in the direction of the Stones of Nemeten. Merlin wasn't far behind, creating new ice walls whenever the other was melted down. No sooner than they had stepped into the circle of crumbling rocks than a field of impenetrable energy sprang from one to the next like posts, creating a barrier between the Sisterhood and them. Merlin sighed in relief, but Arthur was curious.

"Did you do this?"

"No. This is sacred ground to the practises of the Old Religion. The earth itself will not allow for any violence upon its soil. That's why the energy field is there: to prevent our battle from continuing as long as we're within the circle. Which means that we can go about our business without having to worry about being incinerated."

"Great. So what do we do?"

"Hold my hand." Arthur looked at him, aghast. 

"No." Merlin rolled his eyes, immortal patience quickly ebbing.

"Just-"

"Fine." The moment their hands were clasped together, Merlin focused on what he _couldn't_ see instead of what he _could_ see. A glowing mist engulfed the circle of stones, and when it dissipated they were standing in a place as far as possible from the crumbling Stonehenge. They both let their fingers drop to their sides, and remained standing in shock and wonder for a while. It was even more stunning in reality; the colours were brighter, the scents stronger and the wind sweeter to the tongue. All sense of danger faded immediately from even the farthest recesses of the mind to be replaced by an overwhelming feeling of security. The steady rhythm of the freshwater waves crashing on the sandy beach gave the impression of continuity, and waterfowl called to each other in soft, singsongy voices. 

"No trace of humanity in sight," Arthur commented. "And look how peaceful it is."

"Well be fair; humans aren't exactly known for their pacifism." Merlin retorted drily. "Come on. We'd better figure out what we need to do next now that we're here."

"Do you see me arguing?"

\----------------------------------------------------

The sun was just about to reach its highest in the sky when Arthur flopped down on a grey marble bench situated in front of the flowered railings, defeated. 

"I give up. There's no dragon, no pedestal. This pavilion is bare of anything told of in the riddle. We've been here since sunrise and haven't gotten anywhere." 

"Maybe they were metaphorical," Merlin suggested. "Something we need to do rather than actual objects."

"I hate riddles," Arthur muttered, resting his head against the beautiful ivory-coloured marble column, face tilted upward. The sunlight fell in refracted golden-red patterns across his face as it filtered through the crimson diamond roof, illuminating his light blue eyes and making them appear as if they were on fire. This inspired Merlin's imagination. 

Nothing was ever as it seemed in this place. Just like a 3D riddle. He looked at the glistening red diamond domed ceiling above his head and endeavoured to discover the purpose for its particular colour. The sun was directly overhead now... Shining through a rounded hexagon of golden diamond. And the dome was curved in such a way that the red light fell in the outline of the shape right smack in the middle of the pavilion floor.

"Arthur..." He said, nudging the king's shoulder. "Look." As he spoke, the light beaming through the golden hexagon increased. It became too bright to look upon with the naked eye, then faded. The two friends looked at each other in confusion. Was that it? But bright golden specks started to rise out of the marble where the light had touched. A pedestal of the most beautiful rosy sandstone was brought into existence, and when they felt it was safe to approach, the stone itself appeared to be warm with life.

"There's an indentation in the centre. Carved around it on the sides are five swords- the kind that would be wielded by a knight of Camelot." Arthur observed, puzzling over the designs. "And writing of a tongue I do not know embosses the edges." Merlin glanced at the letters, and immediately became enamoured with them completely. 

"Beþence þá dagas sylfum Iúgeára ácenning; sylfum þá menn ond frówan hwy cwile ásprytte hit ymbutan. Eftgecíege þára bielda gecnoden; nú in se æðel heáhþearf clipung forþcymum. þæt insegl edcierre æt séo hæfting; þæm dore ætýned. Rídenda asprít ænes edgrówung on bibeódan þára brytencyninga. Gewealdan hringe sylfum se draca wrítungfeðer; þá dryhtnéas manselen Morgana meagolnes. þæt béagwíse beád afol ond trewrædenn; ácíege forþcymeas geágne ánhyrne heortscræf leofae edsihð. Gebigstandened þære sídan, þá fréon sylfum deorcnes biþ færdryre. Ácíege þá rídend ond fréon sylfum þæt béagwíse beád fylstas." When Merlin had finished reciting the incantation carved onto the edge of the pedestal, he gave Arthur a glance; the blonde deposited his ring into the indentation and they both stepped back.

At first nothing happened. There was just the birdsong and crashing of waves on a sandy shore. The light wind and the perfume of lilac and lavender. The two hadn't known what to expect, but- _nothing!?_ It was impossible to conceive after hiking across open land for two or so days only to hit a dead end. Puzzled, and feeling a little bit betrayed, They started walking away when there was a resounding crack. It was of the sort only produced by rupturing stone, and the tranquility of the summer day was shattered in that single sound. 

Turning back to the Pavilion, they saw that the flawless sandstone had long, fingering lines running from the tips of the swords to the base. They multiplied, glowing a burning gold. The pedestal was engulfed in the light, and the beams shot out of the centre stone. It felt as if the entire world was breaking apart in their minds. The light became white hot, searing to the touch, and then suddenly there was nothing. 


	19. Dragon's Breath

Merlin floated in a dreamless limbo, wading to the surface that was awakening to find what was and was not in fact reality. The past events of recent came hazily to his mind, jumbled and out of order. It was with great difficulty that he managed to paint the picture accurately at all. 

He awoke with a shout all at once; it was unexpected and therefore terrifying. Like when someone is dreaming and then all of a sudden falls through the air to land in their bed with heart racing and eyes wild with panic. At the same time, another such yell was heard just down the hall originating from Arthur's room. Groggily throwing back the covers and pushing open the door, Merlin came face to face with his friend, surprised to see him still dressed in the clothes of the previous day. Looking down at his own attire, the warlock grimaced when he found that he was still wearing his muddied shoes. Both looked and felt like they'd seen better days, and went to the sitting room to collapse in either an armchair or sprawl across the sofa- Arthur being the one to claim the chair and Merlin the couch- with Bryrdan watching them quizzically from under the dining table. His eyes glowed faintly in the shadow, giving his appearance a sinister quality to the disoriented young men he was observing. After a long while Merlin roused himself from his resting place, rolling off the edge and onto the carpeted floor. 

"Very graceful," Arthur snickered, sitting up straighter in his chair. Merlin was lying on his back staring up at the ceiling; he tilted his head backward to look at Arthur and made one of those stupid grins that the blonde had always found strangely endearing... In an annoying way. Rolling onto his stomach and pushing himself up into a cross-legged sitting position, the sorcerer remarked,

"But efficient." Arthur was fingering his signet ring around in his hands, only half paying attention to what was going on around him after the loud thump his friend had made falling onto the floor. 

"I suppose." Merlin's eyes fixed on the piece of metal and immediately became serious again. Sensing this change in attention, Arthur tossed the accessory across the room for his friend to catch and inspect, shaking his head as Merlin fumbled it and hastily retrieved it from the floor.

"What do you think actually happened?" He asked without any further delay in the conversation. Merlin's brow furrowed in thought, intense blue eyes scrutinising over every single aspect of the ring clamped between his finger and thumb. The black cord was still attached to it, though broken where it had been tied. The image was painful; the last time it had looked like that had been when Arthur tore it away from his neck and handing it to Gaius had instructed the late physician to deliver it to Guinevere. This produced a cascade of horrible memories to come raining down upon his head, and the gentle thud of the ring falling into the carpet melted into a resounding bang of thunder as the sorcerer was forced to relive a memory, watching himself like a wraith in the shadows.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Merlin was trudging up a steep, muddy slope, his soft brown leather jacket ripped, torn, and, like the rest of him, dripping wet as the rain poured down. The dark blue tunic had a gaping hole in it where a sword had penetrated the fabric; the skin directly beneath sported a long, thin red line that occasionally seeped blood. His neckerchief was stained an eternal reddish-brown after its unfortunate encounter with the mudslide, and the sticky brown substance clung to his dishevelled black hair and boots. The once fiery, intense cascading blue eyes were dull with grief and loss as the now legendary sorcerer made his final pilgrimage to the Great Dragon before his friend's death. The old fire drake had foreseen that this would be the night of his departure from this earth, and had requested his presence._

_A grimace of fresh agony sprang onto Merlin's face as he once again lost his footing under a shower of muddy pebbles as they raced each other down the slope, causing his ankle to twist painfully and his grip on the carefully wrapped package under his arm to slacken dangerously. The long, narrow bundle tilted toward the soaked earth and hung suspended by iron grip alone until the warlock had regained his footing. Though old age had affected him far more slowly than his friends- tears threatened to well up in his eyes when he thought of the final years they had spent together just two centuries before- silver was beginning to gleam in the ebony locks in long streaks at the temples and laughter lines creased his slightly worn face in memorial of happier days. In his bones he had begun to feel the toils of life, and had to pause at the summit of the hill to catch his breath._

_The silver cords of rain pounded like drums upon his wearing body, unrelenting and decisive in their course. The current Merlin was as pale and solid as the mist rising up from the forest as he watched the memory unfold from the sidelines, his younger body toiling through the foreboding trees with the precious bundle gripped under his arms. The clink of metal on metal followed him all the way to the yawning entrance of the dragon cave and farther through to where Kilgarrah lay._

_The crusted head lifted wearily at the echoing footsteps, once blazing orange eyes reflecting his inner fire simmering at a rapidly cooling glow as the flames began to die within him._

_"Young Warlock," he greeted. "Have you brought them?" Merlin grunted as he sat on a smoothed boulder._

_"Yes. Are you sure you want to do this?" Kilgarrah ignored his question, fading eyes sparkling faintly as five swords gently rose through the air and hovered before him. Each was different in some way or another, suited specifically to its owner._

_"The swords of the first Knights of the Round Table," he rasped, stifling a cough. "It will be my dying honour to grace their blades with my blessing. They will travel to Avalon to guard their king, a final tribute to the lives that wielded them. And a testament, I think, or perhaps a promise."_

_"Of what?" Asked a very subdued Merlin._

_"Of that I do not know," the Great Dragon replied. "There was never a sword like that of the Pendragon's, and never will there be after. These blades will not decay or break, and can kill something once dead, but have not nearly the power of the incredible weapon they will be tasked to defend. Have you also the ring?"_

_"Yes." This Merlin produced with far more caution. It was precious to him, as were the swords; Lancelot, Leon, Percival, Gwaine, and Elyan had wielded them when they were alive. But this had been Arthur's, and then Guinevere's. It was his life wrapped up in summary. The two people who had been his friends and monarchs whose lives he had fought with such ferocity to protect. Kilgarrah's eyes gleamed with approval; the burnishing of the ring along with the swords would tie the blades to Arthur's for eternity in undiminishing loyalty. He took a long, deep, and wheezing breath before bright crimson and gold fire burst from his maw to engulf the six artefacts._

_As Merlin remembered the event, silent, unshed tears began to well in his eyes. Kilgarrah had given the last of his life, his inner fire, to ensure that the legacy of the first Knights was left intact. The flames wreathed around the steel and gold before spreading to Kilgarrah. A last breath escaped him before those eyes closed for the final time, devoid of the fire burning behind them. The greedy tongues cocooned his body, and in a burst of magnificently brilliant light he was gone. His inner flame had been extinguished, and with it, his soul's captivity binding him to the world. It appeared that he was sleeping, not dead. With breaking heart Merlin had to let another friend go; a flash of gold in his eyes and the noble body was consumed with the respectful cremation given to fallen knights upon their drifting boats. It was suiting, really: fire in life, flame in death. The tears fell freely now, in dreaming memory as well as reality, for dimly he felt Arthur shaking him._

_The flames at last dissipated, and gingerly the warlock let the swords and ring glide toward him. Each had been imprinted with a golden sigil of the Pendragon Crest just below the hilt, very small but there. The ring had been healed of the scratches and denting it had endured over the years, and Merlin silently placed it back around his neck. He left Kilgarrah's cave for the final time, collapsing the entrance to leave the Great Dragon's remains in peace. The blades themselves travelled with him to Avalon, where he set them adrift in a boat headed for the island in the centre. Mist enveloped it, and they were gone. With a heaving sigh Merlin started the long trek back to the Druid camp, where he had been residing ever since the destruction of Camelot. He didn't once notice the ghost-like presence of his mind following the memory from an out-of-body experience._

_\----------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Arthur was relieved to find Merlin jerk back into the present after enduring half an hour of just watching him sit in that off-putting trance. Though supposing that the warlock had been reliving a memory, He didn't get much of an answer- or any sort of conversation for that matter- out of his friend at all, and the two left the sitting room and went their separate ways back to bed at one in the morning without ever resolving the issue. 


	20. Witch's Quickening

Morgana shrieked, her entire body contorting with inexpressible wrath as the Sisterhood cowered before her. Mordred stood to her right, eyes dark with anger. One of the girls dropped to the grungy floor dead without any warning.

"I wanted them dead! Can you not do even that!?" She then made a terrible effort to curb her hatred and loathing for these useless creatures, though the contempt and spite still pierced through her words. "Begin the preparations, if you can manage it. We are progressing ahead of plan. The world will burn before the dawn. Now go." The young women fled her presence to undertake the task set before them, not daring to defy her after witnessing the death of their friend. When they were gone she turned to Mordred; they exchanged a knowing smile. It was all for show, really. Once the world was theirs there would be no further need for this... Sisterhood. And both felt they would take great pleasure in disposing of them. Morgana called a Wyvern to carry them to the Isle of the Blessed, and without delay they set about the resurrection. 

Morgana stood at the entrance to the catacombs which housed the souls of the departed; any High Priests and Priestesses who had died. But there were only two that were of any value to her, as they had had similar ideals and dreams of conquest to her own. 

"Hláfordsearu sácerdas hwy cwoni ær, ambihtereas sylfum þæt ealdgecynd æcræft com forecyme. Áfége eac mec be crafing se eardgeard, ond ríce to éadige úre sylfre bócriht béon éao sigeléan. Wé béo árísee tó andett, mín susters, sylfum unc ést mé nú." She repeated it twice, allowing for both Priestesses, and then waited. A shadow crossed over the swelling form of the moon, and with a mighty gust of wind and a great cracking of stone two forms ascended the splintering steps. One smiled with delight; the other gave an evil smirk.

"Morgause," Mordred whispered with recognition. "And Nimueh." He bowed, showing all due deference to his superiors, only to rise quickly when Morgana gestured him to do so with an impatient flick of the hand. 

"These are our allies, Mordred. We are all equals here." She gave her sister a quick hug, nodded to Nimueh, and then began to scan the crumbling towers. "Now, where is my beautiful pet? The Sisterhood would have turned him to stone in preservation almost immediately after the news of my death reached them." Her eyes settled on a creamy-grey gargoyle that looked out-of-place among the black ones. Smiling, she said a quick reverse spell. The gargoyle began to crack, with dark white lines spreading over it. Then it burst, and there perched Aithusa on the battlements, shaking his wings out and screeching in pleasure when he saw his mistress. Morgana gently stroked his head when he alighted before her, usually steeled eyes softening with affection. Turning to her allies, she said,

"Our time has come. A new world, a new age... A new order."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

The four sorcerers stood one on either side of the sacrificial table from the elder days, faces lifted to the darkened sky. The stars had been blotted out by clouds dark as the night, and as the moon had already disappeared behind a copse of trees with dawn not far off they were cloaked in total darkness. The air had gone deathly still, but was shattered by the quartet throwing their arms into the sky with fingers outstretched and chanting an incantation at the top of their lungs. Nearby, explosions of dirt appeared in the once still soil as the dead stirred in their graves.


	21. Television

Arthur rolled over in the covers, tangling his feet in the tight coil. A knock at the front door woke him from his already too light slumber, and half awake he went to get up. His legs caught in the sheets and he tumbled unceremoniously to the floor, grumbling under his breath. 

"I've got it!" He heard Merlin shout from the hallway, and furious with himself the former king rescued his feet before climbing back under the covers. The clock read five thirty in the morning, which was a ridiculous hour for any sane person to make a house call. Why not wait until ten, when most people would be awake? Then it occurred to him that most people would be at work by that time. How curious was the world today; not much had changed to the work ethic. 

Arthur picked up Merlin's book, electing to remain awake, turned on the light, and picked up where he'd left off. 

"- _The goblin had possessed Gaius. It was to my horror that he held no respect for the man whose body he was using, and was instigating mischievous problems for me to clean up wherever he went. I had been accused of sorcery by the time I could do anything, and it was thanks to Guinevere that I had a place to hide in while the guards were searching for me. Gwen said that she could try and persuade Arthur to help us, but when she got back she reported that-"_ Arthur closed the book with a snap, remembering all too vividly that he had been partially turned into a donkey. He leafed through the pages, knowing how it all ended, until he found the scrolling letters indicating a new adventure. 

" _It had been a fairly normal day of hunting- meaning that we had caught almost nothing because I either tripped over tree roots or fell into a stream- and Arthur had suggested we go to a local tavern. I told him it was a bad idea knowing full well he wouldn't listen and said so, to which he promptly answered that I was- if slowly- learning. We had mead and for a while everything was peaceful... Until a thug walked right up to the owner. He demanded a share of her earnings, and of course Arthur couldn't stand by and watch it happen. He challenged the man, and I- admittedly, it was stupid- muttered that I'd like to see him try. Oops. The thug whistled and brought into the tavern about twelve other men, leaving us vastly outnumbered. It was then that he appeared, wading into the conflict as smoothly and casually as he continued to do throughout the remainder of his life. We ended up in an all-out battle; everyone in the tavern got involved. We managed to gain the upper hand, but the man who had introduced himself as Gwaine took a knife to the leg-"_

_"_ Arthur!" Merlin called from the sitting room, making him close the book almost guiltily. "You might want to see this!" Arthur glanced at the clock, seeing that it was now around six o'clock, and deemed it a decent enough time to get up. Throwing on a clean pair of clothes- a task he had made himself learn the first moment he could- and walking into the sitting room, he found Merlin seated in one of the two armchairs looking worriedly at the previously black rectangle bolted to the wall. Except now it wasn't black. There were people and cars flitting across it; they were in front of a burning building, which turned out to be a simple department store, but the symbol of a black and barely scorched banner with bleeding red tree flying from a leftover beam caused the Pendragon's stomach to churn. That had been Morgana's crest when she had taken the throne, and the memory of those immortal soldiers was far from pleasant. Merlin looked at him with a meaningful glance.

"She's showing us that she does not fear anyone. That she is in control and far from underprepared."

"Yes." Arthur glanced at the screen, uncertain as to what it was doing. "What _is_ that?"

"Oh, that's a television. It broadcasts... Um... Moving pictures. Stories. Like a play, but captured forever on tape. I'm not sure if that makes sense, but-" 

"I'll be fine with that explanation, as I doubt you'll be able to produce a better one." Merlin rolled his eyes but held his tongue, not in the mood to start up an argument. Also, what Arthur had said was true. It would be impossible for him to come up with a better explanation. They sat in a somewhat stunned silence, watching the screen show image after image of the smouldering building, the burned, injured people and the charred corpses; most of all they kept replaying the sight of the black flag with bleeding tree. The crimson lines seemed to taunt the two, dark landscape exhibiting a feeling of creeping hopelessness. All of a sudden the subdued atmosphere was shattered by the sound of a door being flung open. Mairin rushed into the flat, eyes wide with terror and face flushed with adrenaline. She sat on the couch without a word, every movement made on the screen being carefully observed by her. Nothing escaped her penetrating glance. Tears began to drip onto the carpeted floor as their guest was overwhelmed by guilt.

"This is all my fault," she whispered shakily. "If I had never joined them-"

"They would have found someone else to be the thirteenth piece to their puzzle, and we would never had discovered the full extent of their plans until it was too late," Merlin interrupted. "You have to weigh the good against the bad in your actions Mairin, or else there'll never be any positive aspects to your life." Mairin nodded, leaning against his shoulder and burying her face in the fabric of his shirt. Merlin's arm wrapped comfortingly around her shoulders, and when he caught Arthur looking at him he shrugged indifferently. 

"-Is this just the first of a series of terrorism-based attacks? And what is yet to come?" The reporter on the screen's question drew their attention back to the bleeding tree, and the ominous warning it foretold. 

"More than you'll bargain for." Arthur murmured resignedly, knowing full well what was in store. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------

It was eight in the morning when they sat around the small table in Merlin's kitchen to eat breakfast. It was nothing special; a few links of sausage with a biscuit or two and some cheese, a cup of tea with cream and sugar mixed in. Halfway through the meal Arthur happened to glance out of the window, and froze with his fork halfway to his mouth. The utensil fell clattering back onto his plate, and the chair legs made a harsh screeching sound as the Pendragon leaped up from the table and dashed down out of the flat. Merlin and Mairin exchanged a quizzical glance with each other before noticing what their friend had seen, and raced after him. 

Merlin leaped onto the handrail running parallel to the staircase and rode it all the way down, catching up with Arthur on the way and overtaking him. At the bottom of the staircase he slid off the rail in his stride and continued on out the main doors, ignoring the shouts from his friends to wait up. Their quarry was _not_ going to escape this time, not like all the others; images flashed in front of his eyes and blocked out the real world. Of all the times he and Arthur with the knights had given chase only to lose her. Morgana had been stepping light footed down the curb to cross the street, unaware of the shadows she had gained. And now Merlin had the chance to catch her... And he failed. 

The images were very deliberately centred around the pain of her betrayal, as if she had awakened only that part of his life to torment him. He stumbled. There was an exclamation of shock from some of the passerby as he collapsed onto the pavement, but he barely heard them. The memories were resurfacing in an overwhelming flood now. Over a thousand years of life tumbling together in a jumble of images blinding his eyes to the present as Merlin fell into the past. In a brief lull in the storm, his vision cleared just enough to see Morgana smirking in the shadow of an alcove. Mordred shared her smile as he joined her. And one thing crashed through the clouds like a thunderbolt; _they knew where he lived. This had been planned. He had to warn Arthur and Mairin._

With the last scrap of energy in his possession as the paramedics lifted him into an ambulance, he directed a screaming thought via telepathy at his friends.

**_"Don't. Morgana. Trap. Follow- hospital."_** The sticky sensation of a nosebleed dimly registered on his senses, but just enough to notify him before he blacked out.


	22. Medicinal Mayhem

The clatter of heels clicking against the concrete ground combined with the muffled sound of a pair of muddied leather boots as the two footsteps swept down a deserted hallway. The clanging sirens of departing and arriving ambulances were an unwelcome clatter in Morgana's ears. This new world was noisy, and smelled worse than a swamp in some places. The air was dirty. Her nose wrinkled in distaste at the clinical scent wafting through the hallways of this hospital; she hated this place. Mordred seemed much more at home than she, and Morgana envied him for it. At least it wouldn't be long until the planetfall. Everything would be cleansed with fire, and the whole world would be hers for the taking. That is, if they could get to Emrys and... Dispose of him before her brother showed up. 

"Which room did they take him to?" Mordred asked when they had entered into the main hallway. Morgana shrugged, throwing the hood up on her black sweatshirt and nodding toward the trolley being wheeled by. Merlin was hooked up to a monitor on it, unconscious. Mordred smirked, and completely changed his demeanour. His face assumed a horrified expression, and without any hesitation he rushed over to the hospital bed.

"Will he be alright? What's wrong? I came as soon as I could. Please, he's my friend. Let me see him!" Two paramedics made a move to restrain him, but he pushed past them and froze when he got a good look at his "friend." Morgana came up beside him, pasting as horrified an expression as she could muster to her face. A man approached her with a clipboard and pen.

"Ma'am? Could you please fill out the patient's information? We're assigning him to room 307, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave at the moment." Mordred gripped her shoulders comfortingly, as a brother would do, and they retreated to guest seating to fill out the form; well, as best as they could. _What was an insurance card number?_ The man came back to retrieve the clipboard, frowning at the data which had been printed there, but only said that they'd be able to see Merlin in a half hour. Morgana just hoped it would be soon enough. They had to meet Nimueh and Morgause at what the clocks said was four o'clock, and by then they could complete their spell. It was a long and complicated process involving many factors, and the high priestesses had been working all night and day to secure them.

As the time went on Morgana became more and more nervous. Any second now Arthur could come walking in through the doors, and her chance to be rid of her doom would be lost. In a spur of the moment decision, she rose quickly and walked down the halls. It would be easy for them to mistake her as a visitor for another patient. Mordred followed her. They came to a stop outside of room 307, and without pause stalked through the door to find Merlin hooked up to watery-looking bags and monitors; there were tubes with different fluids running into his arms. He was still out cold.

"What did you _do_ to him?" Mordred asked. Morgana smiled.

"I placed a sight spell upon myself. When he saw me in the street, it brought all of his waking memories forward to flash before his eyes. A simple spell to incapacitate your opponent, which can be put down to simple mental stress." She then frowned.

"It shouldn't affect someone this severely, though. He must have either had many memories, or terribly traumatic ones. He most likely has a combination of both. Curious." Seeming to shake herself out of here reveries, Morgana moved over to the side of the bed with arm outstretched, hovering above his torso. Mordred was watching near the door, leaning against the wall. The clinical smell began to overwhelm Morgana's senses, making her eyes water. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she prepared to shut out the world in order to successfully execute the spell. Until a single sentence made her freeze and forget anything she had planned to do beforehand.

"Still up to your old magic tricks?"

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Morgana spun around to face the speaker, cloaked in modern black; from her heeled boots and trousers to her hoodie and tank top, she was one dark shadow with rippling raven hair. The blade tip was digging into Mordred's neck just enough to produce a small amount of blood, running down the cold folded steel to collect on the dagger handle. Arthur's eyes were hard and cold; his voice had been cool and challenging. Mordred was glaring death at him, and he too was dressed all in black. Leather army boots, leather jacket, black jumper and trousers. They were certainly a foreboding pair. But upon seeing Merlin lying helpless on the hospital bed, the injustice at killing a defenceless man blew the Pendragon's caution to the winds.

"I do believe you've got the wrong room, _sister_. Last time I saw you, it would have been as unlikely for you to visit Merlin when he was sick as it would be for you to weep at Uther's grave." Mairin was peering into the room from the hallway over his shoulder, eyes widening in fear when she spotted Morgana. Mordred began to thrash underneath the dagger blade, and with an expert flick of the wrist Arthur turned the blunt end in such a way that it came back and hit the ex-Druid over the head, momentarily dazing him just long enough for Arthur to move away and Mairin to pounce on him. The two rolled across the floor in a cat fight as Morgana sprang at her brother, drawing out a dagger of her own from the pockets of her hoodie. 

What ended it all was Mairin's bloodcurdling scream. Mordred had crushed his boot on her wrist and pulled her hair as hard as he could, nothing too serious, but it was enough for Arthur to be distracted. Morgana seized the opportunity and knocked the small knife out of his hands, pinning him against the wall with her own dagger blade digging slowly into his neck. The smile on her lips was triumphant, though her eyes still gleamed with fury. 

"Goodbye, _brother_ _dear_ ," she cooed.


	23. Long Live the Queen

A bright light burst in the centre of the room, collapsing in on itself and flinging Morgana and Mordred to the floor. Arthur shielded his eyes; the light was painful to the optic nerve.

"Emrys!" He heard Mairin exclaim, somehow managing to drown out Morgana's shriek of the same name by sheer dominance of hope over hatred. The light faded, and there stood Merlin in hospital gown with tubes hooked up to his arms, eyes deep and forbidding. Arthur had to admit that the man standing before him looked nothing like the servant whom he had always thought of as helpless in a fight. This was a confident sorcerer that only the stupid or very powerful would even consider tangling with. The Pendragon glanced over at Morgana to see that she was shaking, eyes burning with hatred; underneath the initial emotion, buried deep, was ingrained fear. 

Merlin's mere presence seemed to give Mairin courage. She squared her shoulders and straightened her back, looking down at her former mistress cringing on the floor.

"I free myself from you, _my lady._ I renounce the Sisterhood and vow to bring about its demise even at the cost of my own life." She looked at Merlin, who gave her a barely perceptible nod. "And on behalf of the Seventh Surviving Order of the Druids I'm telling you that you've worn out your welcome. Get out." 

"Never, child!" Morgana spat, but was silenced by the quiet, even voice of her most hated enemy.

"Do as she says, Morgana. I let you leave only because of the mercy of the Druids, which Mairin has extended to you." Morgana began chanting an incantation and Mordred went to stand beside her, and as smoke enveloped them she warned,

"This is far from over, Emrys." And they were gone. Now that there was no immediate threat, Merlin collapsed against the wall, breathing heavily. All the fire seemed to have gone out of him. Tiredly, gingerly, he extracted the tubing from his arms, wincing all the while. 

"Last time I ended up in one of these places was... Ooh, around 1736? It was a _trying_ experience to say the least."

"Are you alright, though? Whatever she did had no lasting effect?" Arthur asked, going over to help him pull the tubes out of his arms. Merlin sighed, his eyes getting a faraway look to them.

"Nothing I won't get over with a little time and sleep." He then looked at his apparel, nose wrinkling in disgust. "And a more suitable change of proper clothes. Honestly, how do they expect anyone to enjoy their choice of garments? It's a _dress._ " Mairin rummaged through one of the supply cabinets near the door and produced his clothes, shaking her head in amusement. Then her eyes focused on the cut still bleeding on Arthur's neck. It was very deep.

"You need that looked at." Arthur began protesting, but she cut him off. "He needs to get changed anyway. By the time they bandage that wound we'll be ready to leave."

"Fine," the former king muttered, resignedly following the Druid girl out into the hallway. Merlin smiled at his friend's reluctance, but fell immediately back into his melancholy when he thought Arthur couldn't see. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------

"Ow!" Arthur exclaimed, wincing as a nurse thoroughly cleaned the gash on his neck. She rolled her eyes and continued dabbing at the wound with the disinfectant.

"Ah! Could you please be a _little_ gentler?" The nurse, whose name was Alice, muttered,

"You're such a toddler! I've seen _children_ handle this better than you!"

"Yeah, well- OW! Stop it! It _stings_!" 

"It'll hurt worse if you don't let me clean it!" Alice snapped, losing her patience entirely. Arthur sighed in relief as a pain-killing balm was gently rubbed into the cut, and as the bandage was applied so that the air couldn't get to it, he finally relaxed. 

"There. That wasn't _so_ bad, was it?" Alice asked sweetly, only to recieve a whithering glance in return.

"I've been through worse," he muttered. "And I'll have you know it didn't hurt nearly as much getting fixed up afterwards." He winced again as the bandage rubbed his wound, but straightened his shoulders and stalked indifferently out of the examination room, leaving Mairin and Alice alone.

"He's a real case," the nurse remarked as she tidied her equipment. "Where'd you find him?"

"He's... A friend of a friend," Mairin explained awkwardly. "A friend of the Druids." Alice spun around to face her sister in magic, eyes registering interest.

"But he didn't sense my magic," she pointed out.

"He doesn't have magic of his own. But his friend does." Mairin paused, as if debating whether or not to ask a certain question. "How are things with the Druids? I... haven't heard from them in a while."

"Mairin, you know I can't say anything about current developments," Alice sighed. Then her voice hardened. "Especially to a member of the Sisterhood, and certainly not after the recent chaos they've caused." 

"Mairin!" Arthur called from the hallway.

"I'll be right there!" She shouted back, before turning with sad eyes to her friend. "Alice, I left. Just... Not in time. They raised Morgana... I'm trying to fix what I helped create." Mairin walked out the door, but paused in the hallway long enough to fling over her shoulder, "take care of yourself." Alice stood frozen in the examination room after the three figures she had seen in the hallway had left, her mind horrified at the news she had just been given.

\----------------------------------------------------------

"You and that nurse seemed very close," Arthur needled as they were walking back to Merlin's flat. They wouldn't be going back to stay, as Morgana knew where they were, but they needed to collect Bryrdan and a few provisions. Mairin shrugged good-naturedly, refusing to take the bait.

"She's an old friend of mine. I'll meet you two at Westminster Bridge. I'm going back to my flat to pick up a few things."

"See you later," Merlin acknowledged absentmindedly. His thoughts were clearly being focused elsewhere. They walked in a seemingly aimless fashion down streets before ending up at the flat. Bryrdan was pacing back and forth in the sitting room, scaly tail twitching in annoyance. Merlin ignored this and walked over to a closet; the door opened and all of its contents attempted to cascade on top of him in an effort of escape. Reflexively, the sorcerer closed his eyes and threw up his hands to shield his face. But everything froze in midair just inches above his head, and breathing a sigh of relief he began sifting through the floating objects. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"I'm pretty sure cupboards aren't supposed to look like that."

"Shut up." At last Merlin found what he was looking for, two backpacks, and they began throwing necessities into them. Arthur was handed the second one for his own assortment of portable belongings, such as his clothes and dagger among other items. They were about to head out the door when he made a split-second decision and raced back to his room to retrieve Merlin's book. Stuffing it rather subconsciously into the pack with the rest of the things and zipping up the bag completely he rejoined his former servant, and side by side they began walking down the staircase. Glancing at the railing in curiosity, Arthur looked at his friend.

"How did you ride that?" Merlin shrugged, a good-natured smile on his face.

"It's a skill," he said smugly. Arthur just shook his head. They walked farther into the city, packs slung over their shoulders, and waited on the Westminster Bridge for Mairin to meet them. It had been a long day, and the sun was only just beginning to set when she finally arrived.

"Sorry," she said before greeting. "I had a hard time convincing my landlady that I was selling my flat with the furniture in it. Apparently I owed five weeks' rent, so it worked out just fine. I paid her back with my furnishings."

"Parliament is in session tonight," Merlin commented distractedly. "I heard something about an emergency session with the threat of terrorist attacks-"

**_BOOM!!!_ **

A terrible explosion threw everyone and everything on the bridge into the water as it cracked and broke into several pieces, falling into the Thames beneath. Merlin's head came up first with Arthur and Mairin's following soon after, and with the rest of the people thrown into the river they clambered rather soddenly and clumsily onto the banks. What they saw broke their hearts. What had been the Palace of Westminster, Big Ben, or Buckingham Palace farther away was now in flames and ruin. And flying in the smoke were the black flags with bleeding tree to mark the offender. 

"No," Mairin whimpered as tears began to roll down her cheeks.

\------------------------------------------------------------

Mordred smiled as Morgana stepped daintily through the rubble of the royal family's palace, running her fingers over tenderly over a charred staircase banister. Looking to Mordred she smiled back, her eyes straying to the twelve young girls standing behind him. The dark Druid bowed on one knee, face tilted upward to look upon his mistress.

"Long live the Queen," he said both in mocking and in earnest. 


	24. Knights

Morgause and Nimueh, both in modern dress- Morgause a cream and silver ensemble and Nimueh a crimson and silver-blue one- picked their way through the wreckage of Buckingham Palace to find Morgana stroking Aithusa's ivory head. The unfortunate beast had grown huge during its stone life, almost as large as the great dragon himself, and yet still he arched his neck down, like a cat, to enjoy the caressing strokes of his mistress. A deep and gurgling sort of purr emitted from his throat as she ran her fingers over his nose, eyes lidded at half mast seeping amber light as he lay curled by the slightly burned throne upon which Morgana sat. His enormous head rested happily on the floor by it, bigger than his mistress in sheer size alone. 

On seeing her fellow High Priestesses enter the room, Morgana stood and walked to greet them.

"Now, my sisters; what news do you bring? I hope it is in our favour." Nimueh smiled, and produced from a black bag a necklace of immaculate crafting of the like not found in the present world, but one of the ancient and medieval past. At the end of the tarnished silver chain hung, wrapped in dented and dulled golden rope, a large, white crystal that was neither diamond nor quartz, or any other such stone. 

"Plucked from the Crystal Cave near the time of her birth," Morgause stated triumphantly. "It calls to its command all that is dead, all that is alive, and all that is of magic, and therefore neither." 

"There were many enchantments placed upon it at the hour of its crafting, like the Cup of Life," Nimueh added. "And like the Cup can make a mortal army immortal, or the dead to walk in arms again." 

"Then we shall see an empire arise," Morgana stated, a smile black as night creeping across her marbled face. "Come. Let us prepare for the ritual. The Sisterhood- childish as they may be- will finish the work of collapsing the present monarchies. Soon the world will bow to us, or die in resistance. Tonight, there will be a rising such as the kingdoms have never seen." 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

Arthur and Merlin dodged and shoved their way through the mass of people congregating about the wreckage of the Palace of Westminster, attempting in vain to get a closer look at the place, searching for a black flag with bleeding tree. Instead, the police found them. 

The pair that had arrested them the first time took great notice of their appearance now, and strode towards them. The crowd parted seamlessly, allowing them to pass through, and Arthur groaned in exasperation.

"It was so much easier all those years ago," he complained to Merlin. "I was the king; they parted to let me pass through. Now nobody will _move_." 

"Welcome to my life," Merlin muttered under his breath, and recieved a smack to the back of his head in response. "Ow!"

"I heard that." The blonde glanced over his shoulder to see how far away the authorities were and wished he hadn't. "Merlin, we need a distraction. _Now_." Merlin cast about anxiously for a few moments until he spotted an ideal candidate for his purpose, and then he froze. With arm outstretched, he murmured a word or two and his eyes glowed gold. Instantly a whirlwind sprang up in the street. Car tyres screeched as their owners slammed their feet on the brakes, and pedestrians veered away from road. 

"Come on!" The warlock said, and was followed into the now still and deserted road by Mairin and Arthur. The police gave chase.

"Why are we running from them?" Mairin panted as they ran, hitching her pack higher onto her back as they went.

"Because they have a warrant out for our arrest," Merlin retorted, breathing easily. He had noted her already erratic respiratory pattern and addressed it. "Don't tell me you're already out of breath. We have a mile or two before these guys give up!"

"A mile or _two!?_ What do you mean, "am I already out of breath?" Of course I am! Why aren't _you!?_ "

"Try carrying hunting gear _and_ the game sometime when following _him_. You get used to this sort of thing."

"Merlin!"

"Shut up?"

"You got it. We have enough trouble as it is without you adding to it." The sound of a police siren confirmed this, as now the officials were gaining. But as they ran they caught sight of more billowing smoke clouds in the distance, and Merlin exclaimed in denying horror, 

"No!" Buckingham Palace had also been hit. And worse still, as they ran the beating of great leathery wings flapped above their heads. All three looked up to see a white dragon bearing down on them. "Aithusa!" Merlin added in recognition. There were screams from the pedestrians at the sight of him, and the siren abruptly cut out. It was followed by more screeching tyres. 

"Merlin, get rid of him!" Arthur shouted. They had all slowed to a standstill. 

"Dragorn. Non didlkai. Kari miss, epsipass imalla krat. Katostar abore ceriss. Katicur. Me ta sentende divoless. Kar, krisass!" The Dragonlord shouted. But the dragon didn't slow. Instead, his white maw opened wide as fire began to come up from his chest.

"Ithi! Ithi wease!" Nothing happened. Merlin began to quiver in panic from head to toe.

" ** _Aithusa!_** " He shouted at the top of his lungs. " ** _Ithi! Ithi wease!_** " Aithusa roared, then reared back in the air, breathing fire into the atmosphere before climbing into the cloud bank and disappearing from sight. Without any immediate threat, Merlin allowed his body to sink to the ground. Arthur caught him as he collapsed, grunting with effort when he took both Merlin's and his pack's weight as well as his own. Mairin appeared on the other side, and in between the two of them they were able to help him over to a nearby park bench. Everyone- police, firemen, civilians- they had all scattered at first glance of Aithusa. 

"Good job," Arthur murmured, keeping his gaze fixed on the sky. "You scared everyone away, forget the dragon; we don't have the police after us anymore." All he got in response was a shaky sigh, and when he looked down at Merlin he saw that his friend's whole body was quivering. 

"Morgana," he managed to choke out. "She- Morgause, Nimueh. They're- they're raising the dead..." His eyes became alight with golden fire. "Gwaine. Elyan. Percival. Leon. Lancelot. Find them." Arthur frowned. 

"You realise they've been dead for over a thousand years, right? Merlin: they're not around anymore." 

"So were you once." It took a few moments for the words to sink in. And when they did, Arthur became extremely aggravated. 

"You mean to tell me that they've been walking around this city- what did you call it? London- for a few days!?"

"Ever since you put your signet ring on that pedestal."

"And when were you going to tell me this? Or did it never occur to you that I might want to know something as... Trivial and unimportant as a few of my knights coming back from the dead?" Merlin shot him a "I'm resisting the urge to strangle you right now" look and retorted,

"I can't keep track of everything! In case you've forgotten, there's been a lotto do in between then and now." 

"Always an excuse," Arthur grumbled, now in a very bad mood. "Fine. So how do we find them?"

"Not _we._ _You._ Mairin will be doing some spying for us, and I'll be busy with a little recruiting."

"So how do _I_ find them, then?" Merlin thought a moment. His eyes had returned to their normal colour, but his complexion was still unnaturally pale. He then started rummaging in one of his pockets, and drew an item out of them to be dropped in the palm of Arthur's hand. It was a small blue stone secured on a well-polished silver chain. A sapphire, flawless in its facets with the Triskelion carved into the centre of it. The Triskelion was of a darker colour. 

"The Searchstone. Go where it guides you. Now; we'd better split up." Mairin hitched her pack over her shoulder and headed off to find her old "friends," while Merlin went in the opposite direction to do whatever he needed to do, leaving Arthur standing alone by a park bench staring at the object in his hand. Shrugging, he lifted it over his head and let it fall against his chest. Immediately the stone began to glow, and he felt it pulling him, urging him in a certain direction. Not sure exactly what to do next, he began walking the way he was being told to go, and hoped for the best. 

He must have walked for fifteen minutes before anything remotely interesting happened. Rounding a corner, he jumped in surprise as a heavy object rammed into him. Fighting to keep his balance with the heavy bag on his back, Arthur shoved the obstacle forward and away from him before realising that it was another human being. The man went flying through the air and landed in a garbage bin headfirst. Shaking his head in confusion as to why the man hadn't seen him- perhaps he was drunk- Arthur walked past the alley and continued to follow the Searchstone. Not far up ahead he heard shouting, and decided to investigate. The stone was leading him there, anyway.

"I've had it with you," a man snarled. The sound of a blow landing followed these words. "Now, are you going to give us your money, or do we have to do this the hard way?" The reply must have been opposite of what the man wanted to hear, because several more landing blows accompanied his words. Arthur quickened his pace to peer around the wall, and almost gasped in shock.

His quarry were trapped against a dirty, grungy brick wall with a gang of thugs blocking their exit; two of the five of them. The punches had landed on- go figure- Gwaine, who could never keep his mouth shut for long enough to stay out of trouble. The speaker yelped as Lancelot leapt at him and tackled him to the ground. It was a futile effort, of course, as it was two against seven, but the odds had rarely ever been in their favour. Arthur tapped the nearest thug on the shoulder.

"Hello," he said when the man turned around, slinging the pack off of his shoulders and whipping into his chin. He then let the bag drop to the ground and dove into the fray. The men were inexperienced fighters, relying on sheer strength in numbers for the most part, and they soon became overwhelmed by the three knights. As they were running without their dignity Arthur called after them,

"And let that be a lesson to you!" He wiped the blood from his nose and knelt down beside his pack, hoisting it onto his shoulders. Now that the battle was over, it was time for a proper explanation on both sides. 

Gwaine's eyes widened in surprise when Arthur turned to look at them.

" _Sire?_ " Lancelot asked, hardly believing it. The blonde forced a smile. 

"Yes, and as you can see, not dead. Where are Leon, Elyan, and Percival?"

"Percival and Elyan went to gather information about this place," Gwaine replied. "Leon stayed behind at our hideout."

"We were trying to get some food," Lancelot explained. "It's been a long few days without it, but the only advantage was that it shut Gwaine up."

"Take me to the others," Arthur directed, following behind them. He found it strange that they were dressed in ragged and soiled armour when he had regained consciousness in what would now be considered modern clothing.

Gwaine shrugged and led the way, but Lancelot allowed himself to fall behind until he was walking step for step next to Arthur.

"Sire," he began in a subdued voice after a while, "we... parted under bad terms-"

"It's all right, Lancelot," Arthur interrupted. "I know now that it was all Morgana's doing. I hold you unaccountable to whatever happened." A look of relief washed over the knight's face at these words. 

"I take that as good news, my lord-"

"We're here," Gwaine announced. "Leon?"

"Here," came the quiet reply. "Did you find any food?"

"No, but we picked up an old friend..."

"Who?" That was Elyan's voice. Arthur took a deep breath and walked into the decrepit, dying house. The door had fallen off its hinges and the window panes had long since been broken, but the roof was intact and the walls kept out the wind. Nevertheless, the former king felt a pang of sorrow seize his heart at the sight of his knights, his friends, living in such conditions. 

"Me," Arthur said, coming to stand in the centre of the small and dingy room. The sound of a chair scraping over broken tiling made him wince. 

"Sire?" It was Percival who spoke this time. "Is it really you, my lord? We-" he trailed off, eyes filling with sadness. 

"We were told that you had died after the battle at Camlann," Leon finished for him. 

"I did."

"What does that mean?" Gwaine asked, confused. Arthur sighed.

"I don't know; ask Merlin. He seems to have all the answers." Percival, Leon, and Lancelot exchanged a cryptic glance. 

"Sire, there's something you should know-" Lancelot began.

"-That he has magic?" Arthur finished, guessing what he was about to say. "I found that out a while ago, thanks." He noted their surprise at how laid back he was about that knowledge with no small degree of ironic amusement. "Speaking of which, I wonder where he got off to..." 

"What, Merlin disappeared?" Gwaine asked. His eyes gleamed with humour. "It's a regular day for us, then." He paused, as if considering something. "You wouldn't happen to know where to find any food, would you?" Arthur rolled his eyes. 

"Yeah, sure. But you can't go out dressed like that; it's indecent. Let me find you some suitable apparel first." He rummaged around in his pack for a moment before finding a wad of paper money. "I'll be back in a little while." 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Arthur came back around a half hour later. He dropped his pack on a rickety wooden table and opened it, drawing out five wrapped parcels. He tossed one to each man.

"Here. Hopefully these will fit." Elyan gave him a strange look, but began to change into the new clothing. 

"What kind of material is this?" Percival asked, running his fingers over a shirt. 

"No idea. Some type of... Cotton, I think Merlin called it." 

When they were dressed in modern clothing Arthur led them to a quiet restaurant. Merlin had told him to meet at this place if they ever split up, and the knights were grateful for a good meal. Arthur, for his part, declined the very idea of food. He had just paid the waitress when Mairin walked in. She spotted him immediately and headed right for them. 

"What news from the Sisterhood?" The blonde asked when she'd pulled a chair over from a neighbouring table. 

"I couldn't get in. Maddie- the head Sister- said I had failed them and was no longer a member of their cult. I do know from what I overheard the others saying is that Morgana will be making her move tonight." This caught the interest of the knights.

"Where?" Mairin shook her head. 

"I don't know; I'm not even sure they do." 

"The Tor," Merlin said, making them all jump. He'd crept up on them as silent as a mouse and had even found himself a seat. He leaned back in the chair and made a pointed glance at Arthur, who after a few moments, realised he would be wanting his Searchstone back. Rummaging around in his pockets, he drew it out by the chain and let it dangle in the air.

"Here."

"Thanks." The sorcerer glanced at the knights with sparkling eyes- Arthur soon understood that they were glistening with tears- and added, 

"I missed you guys." 

"Who'd miss us?" Elyan joked. 

"Or more specifically, Gwaine?" Percival teased. 

"Now wait a minute," Gwaine protested, sitting up in his chair. "There are many people who would weep over my grave." 

"Name three." 

"I would hope that everyone here would at least have been saddened at my death," Gwaine said pointedly before changing the subject. "So, Merlin old friend; you look terrible."

"You say that every time we meet," Merlin said with an exasperated smile on his face.

"Because you usually do."

"All right, enough," Arthur broke in before another debate could begin. "What's this about the Tor?" All happiness drained- along with the colour- from Merlin's face.

"Morgana is going to raise the dead tonight," he said soberly. "The Druids told me that they have seen the Sisterhood making preparations at St. Michael's Tower. If we are to do anything about it, we should go now."

"How far away is this place?" Leon asked. Merlin shot Arthur a look.

"Not again," the blonde said unenthusiastically.


	25. The Shadows Lengthen

"We'll take the bus," Merlin said to Mairin as they were walking outside. "You have your Oyster card on you?" 

"Of course," she replied. "But they don't." 

"It won't be a problem." Mairin shrugged, and when a bus pulled up she was the first to get on. She swiped her card against the reader and found a seat on the bottom level nearer to the back. Merlin was next, swiping his card and then his index finger across the reader before sitting in the seat next to her. The driver, not paying attention, failed to notice that the six men who ascended his transportation after had no card. They all sat in twos as near to each other as they could get seating-wise, and when the doors closed and the idling engine roared back into life they cringed.

"How long will we be on this thing?" Leon asked.

"Roughly four hours and fifty minutes, or thereabouts. Maybe longer or shorter," Merlin answered, slumping down in and laying his head against the back of the seat. "There are a few transfers along the way." 

"Great," Gwaine said sarcastically. Arthur shook his head in agreement. It wasn't exactly his idea of a good time either, but with this amount of free hours during which he would have nothing to do- looking over at Merlin he saw the warlock put weird-looking things attached to wires in his ears and fiddle with a device- he decided to catch up on his reading. The frayed binding crackled slightly as he opened the numerous pages, and carefully he leafed through them until he found where he'd left off.

_"-Arthur found me, all muddy and pathetic. When they took me back to Camelot, I immediately set about trying to assassinate him. Or so I am told. This whole misadventure which I am now relating to the paper I do not remember in the slightest. Everything I write I was told afterwards by Gwen and Gaius. Except for a few parts. Anyway, I was apparently the worst assassin Camelot had ever seen. The Fomorrah made me quite rude to Gaius upon arrival, unfortunately, but it did alert him to the problem. My first attempt upon Arthur's life involved covering his food in aconite. Luckily, Guinevere had beaten me to giving him his lunch, else this story would've ended right there. I became angered over this in my controlled state and dumped the food into a pen filled with pigs. They ate it and died, which enabled Gwen to put two and two together. She went to Gaius, but not before I had concocted yet another sceme by which to end my king's life. I confess that I_ do _remember a fragment or two from this little misadventure. With the aid of Leon advising me on the best type of crossbow. I took this device to Arthur's chambers and rigged a trap in his wardrobe. I tested it to ascertain whether or not my contraption would do its duty. Well, it worked. But when Arthur opened the wardrobe to get one of his shirts, the firing mechanism stuck. Thus, Morgana's attempt to murder him had again failed through my incompetence as an assassin. Confused, I opened the wardrobe myself and narrowly avoided becoming speared to the bedpost by an arrow of my own invention. Afterwards, I am told, I was about to use his ceremonial sword to finish the job. But he moved and I ran into a column, rendering myself unconscious. Gwen and Gaius took me to his chambers after she had hit me upside the head with a pitcher. He tried to extract the Femorrah from my neck, but it grew back. The next day, I poured salts in Arthur's bath; highly acidic, as it ate away at the metal of a sword. Again, I was foiled in my attempt by Gwen and Gaius- though I'm sure Arthur was quite surprise to see them there-"_

"What's that?" Lancelot asked, looking at the ancient novel. Arthur closed it with a snap- much to the regret of his fingers, which had been in between the pages saving his spot- and looked over at him. It had been a wise choice to sit next to him, as the only other alternative at that time had been Gwaine, and Arthur appreciated Lancelot's laid back silence. So he felt more than obliged to explain- in a whisper- what the book was. 

"Oh, uh... Merlin wrote this. It describes many of the adventures we had in Camelot..."

"So you're just reading through it? Start to finish?" 

"Yes."

"How thorough is this journal exactly?"

"It skips over a few days, sometimes even a month or two, but it chronicled every single time he's saved the kingdom or my life." Lancelot smiled.

"Well, that explains why it's such a thick book then." Despite himself, Arthur smiled back.

"Indeed." Lancelot turned back toward the window, where he had been formerly directing his attention, and Arthur tenderly reopened the book back to the place where he had left off. 

_"-I remember clearly the moment the Femorrah was silenced. I sat bolt upright on the table which for some reason I had been lying on with Gwen and Giaus on either side. I was then told that I had tried unsuccessfully on three seperate occasions to assassinate Arthur. I almost fainted, I think, with shock and relief. Shock at what I had tried to do and relief in the knowledge that I had failed to do it. So I used the aging spell and rode out to find Morgana's hut. I changed in the forest, but then I couldn't get back on my horse; a Camelot patrol happened along at that moment, and after a heated discussion which resulted in the unconscious rendering of Leon, Elyan, Gwaine, and Percival, I mounted my horse with their... Assistance- all right, I used them as a flight of steps- and I rode straight for the hovel. Once there, I engaged Morgana in a duel of sorcery and beat her, eventually destroying the Femorrah as well. All in all, not a bad day for someone who isn't used to being eighty years old... But of course when I got back to Camelot Arthur had about five million tasks for me to accomplish. And he assigned George to instruct me how to do them properly. Hooray."_

The bus rolled to a standstill clumsily, jerking everyone forward in their seats. 

"We're transferring to another bus," Mairin explained as she and Merlin stood up and began to head toward the front of the bus. Unhingeing his clenched jaw and drawing his face out of the indent it had made in the fabric of the seat in front of him, Arthur replied unenthusiastically,

"Fantastic." 

"We'll have a bit of walking to do after that," Merlin said, joining the conversation. 

"That's better than this," Elyan pointed out. 

"What could be _worse_ than this?" Leon asked, gesturing at the bus as they ascended the second one. 

"The uh... What did you call it, Merlin? "The Tube?" Is that right? It's like the bus, only faster and it travels underground." 

"Brr!" Gwaine gave a fake shiver. "Sounds terrifying." The bus ride this time was much more tense and absolutely silent; Merlin and Mairin didn't listen to music, and Arthur refrained from reading. It was getting ever closer to midnight, and nearer still to Morgana and her minions. 

\----------------------------------------

"Is everything ready?" Morgana asked. 

"If course, sister. Come dawn, we will have the recognition and authority we deserve," Morgause answered.

"We have worked so hard for this achievement, when by rights it should have been given to us as is," Nimueh added. Morgana pursed her lips in thought, her finger tapping the aged stone of St. Michael's Tower. 

"Perhaps. Yet I have found that a show of dominant strength gives absolute submission. We can have no opposition to our rule."

"What of the other world leaders, then? What shall we do about them?" Morgana smiled at her sister.

"That has been taken care of," Mordred responded, coming out of the shadows. "The Sisterhood are not simply the thirteen girls you have seen. Rather, try are but a dominant faction out of many spread across the world in every country, on every continent. When the dead are raised they shall destroy the opposition. We need not worry about them any more."

"If you say so," Nimueh muttered, a satisfied smile playing at the edges of her mouth. "We should get into position. The time is almost come." They walked away from the tower, closer the decline of the Tor but wrapped in the tower's menacing shadow. On its summit were the roof had formery been, Aithusa crouched in expectant vigil.


	26. For the Love of Camelot

As soon as the bus rolled to a stop Merlin and the knights raced toward the Tor. They dropped their packs into a clump of bushes on the climb to the tower, successfully concealing them with little effort, and continued running. Halfway up, they stopped short. 

"Aithusa," Percival said, pointing at the creamy silhouette outlined on the tower's broken roof. 

"Morgana," Elyan warned, motioning with his arm toward the four figures standing in a square in the darkest shadows. 

"Yes, and do you see who she has with her?" Lancelot questioned. They all turned to look at Arthur, who's throat suddenly dried up. He cleared his throat, not sure what to say. This... This wasn't the world he knew, it wasn't the same. And for the first time in his life he realised that he didn't know what to do. Without a plan, they would be dead before the sinister quartet even noticed them, burnt to a crisp in dragon fire. 

Desperately scanning the familiar faces around him, Arthur's eyes found Merlin's. It was as if the calming deep blue became a peaceful lake being gently stirred by the wind. And when he looked at him he no longer saw a skinny servant, clumsy and over- or under- enthusiastic about whatever he was doing, a boy that could no more protect himself than a three year old could. What he saw was the man who had saved his life without ever asking for any credit because it was the right thing to do, his friend whose support meant more to Arthur than he would ever know, and the most powerful sorcerer to walk the planet since the dawn of time. 

And what he found in the depths of those eyes was the one thing he had lost in his bewilderment of this new world; the courage to do what was right, no matter the consequences. 

"We face them together, make a stand. If this is to be our last night on this earth- officially- then it will be one to be well remembered for years to come." 

"We need to get into that tower," Merlin added. It's our only hope of making this a fair fight." 

"We'll distract them while the two of you do that," Mairin responded. "For as long as we can."

"For Albion," Leon and Percival said together.

"And for the preservation of all that is good in this world," Lancelot added. Elyan looked at Arthur.

"It was an honour to be a Knight of the Round Table, sire. And we will take that honour into this battle." 

"It was nice knowing you," Gwaine said with his goofy smile as Arthur and Merlin left. That smile faded when they disappeared over a rise in the hill. 

\----------------------------------------------

"It is now midnight," Nimueh said. "Let the... "Festivities" commence." Morgana smiled, the beautiful lips producing such a wicked grin as to be ironic. Throwing back the hood of her sweatshirt, she clasped the hands of Morguase and Mordred with her own. Nimueh did the same, until the square was connected. And then Morgana began to chant. The voices of the other three slowly joined her in the satanic calling to the dead, their cries rising from a low whisper to a deafening, curdling scream.

"Áræme fram séo éar ond æfterfolge mec, deáþgodas sylfum se neaht. Tredde eftcyme innan sé forescýwan ond wíge on mín úthealf, forworene. Árísee fram séo dæl sylfum fýrcynn ond forþlæde hit eac ðú, mín imjuan démonas. Á sylfum ðú; æfterield, æcerspranga, wæpenlic, cempestre; biþ in mín ealdorbotl. Nú, árísan mín þegnweorud; se wéstene. Bescúfan ætýne úre byrgelsas ond æfterfylge mec into sigegefeoht æt crafing éower géoléan!"

The earth rumbled an ominous note, like that of an approaching earthquake coupled with an active and volatile volcano. A sickly green mist rose up out of the freshly mown grass and gathered into the solid forms of ghostly and malicious bodies. An army of the dead marched to a halt and stood before Morgana and her High Priests, awaiting their orders. The mist enveloped them, and when it faded away, they stood in dimly shining chainmail with sharpened swords held aloft; Mordred's gleamed more so than the others with a cruel silvery glow. His blade had a nick in it near the tip. 

\----------------------------------------------

All over the world, in every country, resounding explosions occurred in every capital and major city. The Sisterhood were fulfilling their oath: the burning of the world as humanity knew it to be.

\----------------------------------------------

From their hiding place, Arthur exclaimed in disgust,

"She always was one for a show." Merlin glanced at him as they army crawled up the hill. Aithusa's attention had been drawn toward the knights and Mairin; they were slowly coming up the slope to stand in pitiful opposition against Morgana's forces. They weren't even equipped with armour, as what they had been wearing we're write offs to say the least. Arthur grew thoughtful as they shimmied up the hill flat on their stomachs.

"Tell me something, Merlin."

"Yes?"

"Why is it that, the longer the incantation, the worse the result is?" Merlin managed to sigh in exasperation before replying.

"The incantations are just words, Arthur. Sorcerers were born with the ability to fabricate them and bring their meaning into reality. So, the longer the speech, the more complex the result." 

"Ah."

"You're just bantering to try and lighten the mood, aren't you?"

"Pretty much." They froze as Aithusa lifted off into the sky, but it provided ample opportunity for them to sprint the rest of the way after the dragon had temporarily disappeared out of view into a black cloud bank; it covered the moon and threw everything into perpetual darkness. Shapes were moving behind the knights in medieval-looking cloaks.

"The Druids," Merlin sighed in relief. They _did_ come after all." Arthur looked at Merlin, then at the tower around them. 

"So what are we doing here if the battle is out there?" Merlin was about to reply when fire lit up the sky. Aithusa descended upon the unsuspecting Druids, and while they were shielding themselves from the inferno the army of ghosts leaped with savage dexterity into confrontation with them. In a matter of a single minute, the Tor had erupted into the chaos of battle. Arthur felt the blood begin surging through his veins, the adrenaline beckon him to join the fight. 

"Merlin..." He looked at his friend an found that he had retreated away from the opening and deeper into the tower. He stood right in front of the centre flagstone, but seemed unwilling to set foot on it. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and with outstretched hand began to incant a spell which he had been saving for over a thousand years. 

"Síþwíf sylfum séo Wæterséaþ áscilde hwæne ænes wæs éower, Cyrtenan sylfum Frówan under sé fléot áplucce se misas sylfum cenningtíd; Freya hwám ic bróðorlufe éacne séo draca heardecg. Mædencild sylfum sé Éadhréðigu séo cenningtíd sy cymst, Agendfreán sylfum Avalon ásiehe sé beadu; Síþwíf sylfum séo Wæterséaþ æalá þý sé leóma sylfum Albion béo edníwede."

The centre flagstone seemed to ripple and become liquid rock; out of this square, tan pool an arm appeared. In its grip was a sword that Arthur knew well: the sword forged in a Dragon's breath. 

"Take it," Merlin instructed. "It's yours." Arthur gulped down a large breath of air and gingerly extracted it from the hand's fingers. They released their prize easily when he had gotten a firm grip on the hilt, and without noise or prominent display the arm fell back into the pool of rock. It became solid again after the rippling had stopped and the surface was still. 

"That is a weapon that can kill something already dead," Merlin whispered as Arthur gazed at the magnificent sword. "On one side it reads "Take me up," and on the other "Cast me away." This is a time to wield it." 

Another burst of fire right outside the tower made them both flinch, and with sinking hope they watched the army of the dead- led by Morgana, Morguase, Mordred, and Nimueh- overpowering the Druids and the knights. Arthur looked at the sword again, and summoned his courage. 

"For the love of Camelot!" He shouted in rallying cry, holding the sword aloft as they raced into the fray. 

"O drakon, fthengomai au se kalon su katerkheo deuro!" Merlin shouted at the sky, keeping pace with him step for step. And then something strange began to happen. A white mist sprang up with the swiftness of a forest fire and raced over the land, materialising into an army of silver-clad chainmail, gleaming swords, and flowing crimson cloaks. The sigil of a golden dragon flashed constantly in a shred of moonlight that had escaped the cloud bank, and a glowing golden mist seemed to envelop Mairin and the five unarmed knights, just as it did Arthur. When it dissapated they were in full armour array complete with cloaks. 

In the corner of his vision Arthur saw the undead hesitate as their leaders did. Taking advantage of their distraction, he began to charge their ranks. 

"On me!" 


	27. Victory

It was a battle of light against dark. Druids and ghostly knights of Camelot from a bygone age against the undead forms of Saxons and bandits. They were aided by the mail-clad forms of the three High Priestesses and Mordred, while Aithusa attacked from the sky. Even with the help they had recieved, the look shared between Arthur and Merlin said it all. This was a battle they could not win. The five knights of the Round Table's swords had burst from the ground and leapt into their hands; nothing stood before them, yet the dead kept coming.

There were flashes and puffs of smoke all over the place. Morgana's army, when struck a fatal blow, would seem to burn with sickly green witch fire before sinking into the soil with an agonising scream. The knights were simply enveloped in bright golden light and disappeared. 

Arthur got caught up in the battle and realised at one point that Nerlin was no longer by his side. When he finally located him, it was too late.

\----------------------------------------------

"Well well well, it seems we were meant to find each other again after all," Nimueh taunted. Morgause looked upon him with a snicker, and Mordred a scowl. Merlin turned to his last exit of freedom and found that Morgana had blocked it. The smile on her face was an ironic contrast to the burning hatred of her eyes. 

"Hello, _Emrys,"_ she sneered. Merlin looked at her with a level of dislike that bordered on loathing. There was no longer any sense of sadness at what she had become; it was generally accepted that she was now a lost cause. 

"What do you want, Morgana?" He asked offensively. The short laugh she gave was cold and chilling.

"I should have thought that was obvious," she sneered. Her voice grew contemptful. "The greatest sorcerer the world has or ever will see, cornered like a common rat." The smile disappeared. "Too bad we have to end your pathetic excuse of a life." It was Merlin's chance to smile.

"Oh, I don't think it's giving you any sort of emotional trauma." Her cheeks flushed temporarily in anger, burning like the hatred in her eyes. His smile with infuriating to look at. 

The battle raging around them faded away as a barrier of flesh-ripping wind sprang up around the outside of their little circle, cutting them off from the rest of the world. The quartet produced lightning from their hands; it came shooting out of their fingers and enveloped Merlin. He crouched low to the ground, a hand against the earth and the other above his head generating a protective field. It began to waver underneath the onslaught, and when a single bolt made it through it was all over. The field collapsed and so did he. His last second of consciousness before the knife went through his heart was the victorious, evil smile of satisfaction on Morgana's lips. 

\----------------------------------------------

"Merlin!" Arthur shouted. The miniature tornado dissipated to reveal Morgana and her helpers leaving a very scorched area of earth. Merlin was collapsed in the middle of it, and he was very still. Arthur began to race toward him through the battle, and when he arrived at his side he saw the blood spilling freely onto the ground, the hair scorched and the face tensioned in pain. In his heart he knew that Merlin was dead.

Tears escaped Arthur's eyes, if only a few in number before he was engaged in combat again. But they fell upon Merlin's still and blood-streaked face, cleansing it of some of the dirt in thin lines running off his cheeks and down his neck. 


	28. The Reality Between Worlds

"Where am I?" His voice echoed eerily across the mist-shrouded Tor. Everything was silent, still. He grew confused. A battle had been raging about him only a few moments ago. Unless he'd been out for hours... Or he was dead. 

The last few moments of his life rushed into clarity before him, and Merlin shuddered. The dagger that had been intended for Uther's heart had pierced his own. He spoke a little louder this time, calling out to the deserted Tor.

"Where am I?" 

"In the land between the dead and the living," an achingly familiar voice said behind him. Merlin turned sharply to see Freya standing in the entrance to to tower. A smile was on her face, though it was sad. 

"Freya!" Merlin took a few tentative steps toward her, found his footing, and then began to run. He stopped right in front of her, eyes drinking in the image of her face looking back at him. 

"I missed you," she whispered. She took his hand and led him into the tower. "Now you can be with me, and never hurt again." Merlin let his fingers slide out out hers, and he paused in the centre of the tower. One way was dark and misted over, the way he had come. And the other passage that Freya was leading him to was filled with light and exuding warmth. A sweet breeze wafted out of it. From the other came the stench of decay. Freya's eyes were large and hopeful.

"Merlin, please. You have done more than anyone could ever have asked of you. You did your duty. Now claim your reward." Merlin took one last look at the other passage and then began to follow her. 

"Merlin!" A voice called. It made him stop in his tracks. Tears filled his eyes when he turned and saw Gaius standing near the darkened opening. "You cannot follow her, Merlin."

"Why not?" He asked. "It is as she says: I have more than done my duty. It's time for someone else to make the sacrifices for a change."

"That is not your destiny," Gaius replied sharply. "Nor is your reward the peace she is promising to you. Arthur needs you by his side-"

"I can't go on any longer, Gaius!" Merlin said. His voice rose in volume and throbbed with all the pain that had struck him during his life. "I just can't." He knelt on the cold stone and lowered his head. "I'm not strong enough for this. I don't believe I ever was." Gaius came and knelt beside him, placing his hand on the younger man's shoulder. 

"You have always been stronger than what you yourself use. Or has it been so long since you relied upon instinct alone, without incantation, to govern your magic?"

"You taught me to control it!" Merlin shouted, rising from the floor and pacing. "Taught me to bring it down into the darkest depths of my soul and chain it there for all eternity. I may have been Emrys once, but it was long ago." He began to walk toward Freya and the light. "Goodbye, Gaius. I hope to see you on the other side."

"You cannot follow her there, Merlin!" Gaius called after him. "One day, yes. But not yet." Merlin turned on him, feeling the pressure of Freya's fingers wrapped around his arm.

"I'm dead, Gaius! How can I go back to the world of the living? I can't witness the world of the dead in all its splendour and return to the living! No man can walk in two worlds without tearing himself apart." Gaius sighed, placing his hand again on Merlin's shoulder. This time he didn't flinch away. The former physician's eyes were like glistening stars of sadness and wisdom. 

"Let me tell you a secret, Merlin. You have _never_ walked with both feet in a single world." He walked past his ward to stand beside Freya, who reluctantly released her grip.

"Go back to the world of the living, Merlin. Your time there has not yet ended. Be the man I know with the very essence of my _soul_ that you truly are deep inside; the man you were _born_ to be." Gaius took Freya's hand and began to lead her through the light-filled tunnel. 

Merlin walked toward the misted one, hesitating at the edge and looking out. An his eyes beheld the battle that still raged on, Mordred and Arthur fighting each other with swords forged in Dragon fire gleaming unnaturally bright in the obscured moonlight. He turned back to look at Freya and Gaius one more time, gaze focusing on the form of the beloved old man one last time before taking a deep breath and placing his feet over the edge.

"Goodbye," he whispered, eyes brimming with tears that streamed down his face. 


	29. Mirrored Floor

A warm mist seemed to wrap itself around him and drag him into what should have been a nightmare instead of reality. Blearily, Merlin blinked opened heavy eyes to see fire and hear with horrifying clarity the sound of iron on iron. He was staring up at the sky; Aithusa's creamy silhouette hovered maliciously in the cloud bank. His great white maw opened wide, and his chest glowed from within as the fire coursed up through his neck. He was about to breathe flaming tongues on a group of Druids when a bolt of bright purple lit up the sky. It was indigo dragon fire, and Aithusa screeched a challenge that the far smaller Bryrdan answered. And then the fight began to even out. A rallying cry sprang up from Arthur's army as Morgana's shrieked in anger. 

Merlin started to stand up, but his limbs lacked the strength to support his body and he collapsed back into a muddy heap. _Mud? Had it started raining?_ And then he realised that the puddle had been created by his own blood. The wound to the left side of his chest was caked in it and still seeping it a bit too thickly. There was no way he could survive for much longer, not like this. But to keep going, he would need to look inside of himself and become who he had been destined to be. He hadn't been that man for so long. Not since Arthur's death... 

Understanding illuminated the darkest parts of Merlin's very soul, and he could sense the fluttering of his power as it strained desperately to free itself from the place he had hidden it.

_"I use my magic for you, Arthur..."_ Words he had spoken over a thousand years ago that had now become the key to unlocking his lost spirit from the chains of sorrow. Words of hope and loyalty, truth and friendship. And they were enough.

Merlin closed his eyes and moved his hand gently over his skin until they found the tear in his shirt. He slipped his fingers in the rip and laid them on the wound. And then he simply thought about a time when it wasn't there. He had the strange sensation of feeling the wound magically disappear from existence, though when he opened his eyes again the cloth was still ripped and he was lying in a pool of his own blood.

Standing out of the crimson puddle, Merlin summoned to his right hand out of thin air a very old wizard's staff. It had been elegantly carved of birch wood by the First Order of the Druids before the time of the Great Purge and over the years had acquired the Druidic symbol assigned to every High Chieftain from the time of its conception. The farther down from the top of the staff you went, the older they got. There was room enough for about one more ring of symbols before its service would be ended. Taking a deep breath, Merlin traced his own symbol with the tip of his finger on the wood. It smouldered and left a beautiful carving in it; the Pendragon Crest had been his chosen symbol. It stood for everything he had worked for. And his turned a beautiful gold colour unlike the other markings, which were blackened by the ingraving, signifying that this was the staff of Emrys. 

When this task was complete he knelt to the ground and let his magic fully overtake him. It was like a long forgotten cascade of energy that swept through his tired body. He pressed the palm of his free had into the soil with pleasure at the feeling, and when he opened his eyes they were burning a brighter gold than they had ever done before.

\----------------------------------------------

Arthur and Mordred had an unexpected respite in their life threatening duel when the earth began to rumble. It shook in small vibrations at first, but then they started to become far more intensive. Thunder boomed overhead as several bolts of lightning struck the Tor. It began pouring down rain, and the wind kicked up into a fierce gale. Everything- the fighting, the noise, thinking, even time- seemed to grind to a standstill. Another bolt of lightning joined the others, but it was blue instead of white and came from the ground. And then a voice called out in challenge and unquestioning authority.

"Morgana!" There was a moment of recognition from her before her incredulous reply.

"Emrys!?" And then there she stood facing Merlin, looking very much a mouse in front of a great and powerful lion. 

"It ends now, Morgana. One way... Or another." The special effects stopped, and the battle began again. Arthur, caught off guard and jubilant at seeing Merlin alive, had temporarily forgotten about Mordred. He soon remembered him when the boy attempted a blow to his neck. 

"It's not often I get the pleasure of killing an enemy twice," Mordred sneered. This cocky attitude reminded Arthur of, well, himself when he had been that age. And maturity had made him more cautious in a fight, but it was a weakness he was going to exploit. 

Their battle ranged through and interrupted many of the other duels taking place, and put Arthur through his paces. He could hardly remember a time where he had fought harder. Mordred was a skilled and cunning opponent, and only lost his footing when he fell into a nearby pond situated close to the Tor. It seemed to have been leftover rain from the last downpour. Arthur left him floundering in the shallows to engage in combat with someone else. 

Mordred pulled a dagger out of his jacket and sent it flying. The blade embedded itself up to the hilt in Arthur's shoulder, and he stumbled, letting out an exclamation of pain. By the time he had turned around, Mordred was waiting for him. It took all of Arthur's concentration to remain in focus for this fight; the pain in his shoulder was excruciating. So he had no time to watch his back. 

When the clash of swords frighteningly close by caught his attention, and Mordred was briefly distracted by a Druid, Arthur turned to see a look of terror spread across the face of one of Morgana's men. A knight of Camelot was clutching his side, and when he looked up he was staring face to face with his son.

The moment seemed to last forever, but it took only a few seconds out of reality. Uther and Arthur exchanged a long glance into the other's eyes. And then there was the dip of the head. It was a simple nod, barely noticeable, but it was Uther's way of saying he was proud of him. Arthur had to swallow hard as he watched the ghost of his father fade away in a brilliant flash if golden light. He didn't get much opportunity for reflection, however, as Mordred swung for him again. A kick to the shins here, a cleft to the chin there. Whatever Arthur did Mordred matched with the same depth of ferocity. It was only when he heard the raindrops pattering on the surface of the tiny pool that he realised the ex-Druid had manoeuvred him right into the same trap that Arthur had set for him just a few moments ago. Except that the water sucked at the soles of his boots, but never let them strike lake bottom. 

Arthur was standing right in the middle of the pond before he realised that he wasn't _in_ it, but _on_ it. He looked down to see the water rippling each time he took a step, and when he looked back up he saw Mordred trying unsuccessfully to hide his awe. Arthur took the opportunity to pull the blade out of his shoulder, and without the double-edged dagger digging into his torn muscles, he was in a far better position to deal with Mordred. The small blade fell right through the surface of the water and slowly sunk to the bottom of the pool.

The Pendragon launched himself across the water and barrelled right into the dark-haired boy around his torso, throwing the two of them clear across a large stretch of land. Both swords had been knocked from their hands, and it was an all-out battle of strength and wills to see who would survive.


	30. Free

As soon as the special effects had run their course, Morgana and Merlin began to circle each other wearily. She made the first move, sending a stream of green fire arcing from her fingertips to his chest. But Merlin, whose eyes had been closed momentarily, opened them, burning deep gold. His hand absorbed all the excess energy from the witch fire and let it dissipate into the air. Morgana scowled at this and drew a sword from underneath her raven cloak, engaging him in combat. The metal struck the staff in his hand and didn't even make a scratch upon its surface.

Merlin's eyes still blazed golden as he swung the staff with absolute certainty straight at her head. The end clipped her right underneath her left eye, and threw her to the ground. For the next dozen or two minutes after that it was all a flurry of sophisticated battle blocks and parries. And for the majority of it, it looked like Merlin had the upper hand. 

Until the ancient staff in his hands recieved one blow too many from Morgana, and it buckled underneath the last hit. The wood split apart underneath the iron blade and cleft in two, breaking apart in his hands. In the shock of the incident, Morgana kicked him in the chest. Merlin flew across the ground and landed with a bone-crushing thud on the soggy earth. She stood over him, eyes glinting in triumph. But as Morgana bent down to deliver yet another death blow, he reached up and twisted his arm around her neck. They sprawled together, struggling, on the ground as he attempted to wrench the sword from her hands. She kept tight grip of it and refused to yield, finally managing to pin him against the wall of St. Michael's Tower. 

"Goodbye, Emrys." She let the blade slowly dig into the flesh of his neck, so that the death would be as agonising a possible. But the pieces of broken wood seemed to Merlin to emanate a power as old as the earth itself; it seeped into his bones and began to flow through his blood. 

He placed his hand firmly on the back of her head, and surprised she flailed in his unbreakable grip. Morgana stared into his burning amber eyes and found herself falling into an abyss. Her own eyes filled with terror when she was at last able to turn her gaze away from his. Merlin's face held no triumph, no sense of victory. It just looked sad. Sad and determined. 

"My name is Merlin." Morgana screamed as golden fire, her magic, became uncontrollable and consumed her. It engulfed her body and entirely dissolved her form, until all that was left was a golden mist floating in a midsummer night breeze. 

"Goodbye, Morgana." Her life seemed to be the cork in the bottle, removed while she was alive, but now the genie was outside his home and the stopper replaced. 

All over the field, the undead sank into the earth with hellish screams as green fire slowly are at their bodies. The High Priestesses screamed and dissolved into a green mist. Aithusa screeched in the air, driven mad by fury; Brydan zipped through the sky and hurtled a barrage of indigo flames right down his open throat. While dragons were fireproof on the outside, the inside was an entirely different story. Bryrdan's fire combined explosively with Aithusa's own, and the white dragon fell in a burst of smoke and combustion dead upon the ground. 

\----------------------------------------------

Arthur was entirely at the mercy of Mordred as the ex-Druid applied more pressure to his shoulder wound. Yet suddenly he reared backward, face twisting in terror as he disintegrated. When all was said and done, Arthur was staring at a pile of crumbling, powdery bones that completely turned to dust and were blown away by the wind. All around him, Morgana's men were... Well, _re_ dying. After they were gone, the Tor was incredibly silent. 

Shimmering ghosts of long dead knights, Druids from the present, and the first five Knights of the Round Table parted to let Arthur pass through. He paused on the edge of the pool before tentatively taking a few steps out over the reflective surface. 

\----------------------------------------------

Merlin picked up the broken staff and repaired the damage, letting the surplus magic siphon off into its original body. The aged wood glowed faintly in his hands as he walked through the crowd of ghosts and sorcerers, and the clouds began to clear.

When the first ray of moonlight burst through the blanket of dark grey, the ghosts faded with a gust of wind. It clustered around Merlin in a cocoon of light, and when it faded he was still walking with the staff in his hand, but wearing his old clothes: the dark blue shirt and brown leather jacket with red neckerchief tied aroud his neck. There was still a gaping hole, blood-soaked around it, where the knife had cut in. Mairin and the knights were stumbling about the Tor in a daze of confusion, as were the Druids. It had all happened so feast and ended just as quickly. 

\----------------------------------------------

Arthur was staring into the depths of the water underneath his feet, lost in thought.

"Figured it out then?" Merlin asked, startling him out of his contemplations. He looked up to see the warlock walk across the water to stand next to him. 

"Not really," the blonde admitted. "If you can shed any light onto it, I'd be glad of the help." Merlin's blue eyes were as intelligent and intense as ever. In a voice that alerted Arthur to the fact that he was about to say something important and somewhat wise, Merlin answered,

"There's an old myth: "the waters of Avalon will never again close over the head of the Once and Future King." "

"Did you foresee that?" Merlin's eyes gleamed mischievously. 

"Maybe." They both turned to watch the sun rise in the orange sky as the darkness of dawn passed into the early morning, the light breeze turned into a fine morning wind that rippled the water underneath their feet and refreshed their tired minds. Arthur looked over at Merlin when he heard a long, heavy sigh. Merlin looked back at him, eyes sparkling with unshod tears.

"At last, I'm free."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't have to be Emrys anymore. I can just be Merlin."

"There's no such thing as "just Merlin," " Arthur replied with a smile. Merlin smiled back, relieved to be able to live out the rest of his natural days in peace. He would grow old, and he would die just as anybody else.

They both looked behind their shoulders to see the others watching them. The Tor was a mess; everywhere churned earth signified a magnificent struggle had taken place, and the bodies of fallen Druids were scattered here and there. And then there was Aithusa's smoking body. The people that remained were battered and looked close to collapse, but they were alive. 

"What happened to the Sisterhood?" Arthur whispered.

"Their power had been channelled into Morgana, and Morgana's power into the others," Merlin whispered back. "When she was destroyed everyone an everythig connected to her perished as well." 

"So we finally have absolute peace," Arthur commented tiredly. "It only took fifteen hundred years." Merlin patted him on the shoulder sympathetically.

"Let's go home." Turning to the others, he added, each and every one of us."


	31. Coming Home

A large group of riders on horseback galloped down the burning streets of Glastonbury. Arthur and Merlin ride side by side with the Knights and Mairin directly behind, and the Druids after them. Bryrdan soared above them all in the sky, following the group with the loyalty of a dog to his master. The people of the city watched from walkways and out of open doors and windows. It was that way with every town they passed through. Within a few days, newspapers would be filled with pictures and articles about the Return of King Arthur. 

Sunset was not far off when Merlin slowed to a canter, and finally to a walk. The procession did so as well. They were standing at the edge of a forest that bordered a huge open and grassy clearing. 

Merlin dismounted from his horse and knelt to the ground, feeling the energy of the things around him vibrating through the soil and air. There was magic here, a deep magic that had awaited the return of Emrys to say the right words. But the only word to emanate from his lips was:

"Cuman." _Come._ It travelled into the ground and shook it with tremendous force. And then everything was still.

Presently, weathered stones burst free of the topsoil and floated through the air in a great rocky tornado. They built themselves ever higher into the sky until beautiful walls and climbing towers became the end result. When the wind died down a figure stood on the battlements, curling chocolate hair being softly caressed by the gentle breeze and lavender dress and cloak billowing over the ramparts. Flying banners of a golden dragon on a red field fluttered everywhere, and all who saw it were silent with awe. 

"Camelot," Arthur whispered. His eyes were fixed on the figure on the battlements. He tore them away to stare at Merlin. "But how?"

"Your ring," the warlock explained. "It was a promise to her, to Camelot, that you would return one day. And I've never seen you break a promise yet." Merlin remounted his horse and let Arthur have a slight lead ahead; they rode cautiously into the legendary city and right up to the steps of the Citadel. She was there to meet them. 

Arthur leaped off of his horse and raced up the steps. And then they were hugging each other close, two hearts torn apart by time, reunited by the promise of hope. The bond of believing in the impossible. 

"Guinevere," he whispered, burying his head into her shoulder and finally letting the tears fall.

\----------------------------------------------

They had been back at Camelot for a week now. Arthur was lying on his bed, reading the dusty old journal that had gotten him through more sleepless nights than he cared to think of in the past week or so. 

_"We rode for Avalon as best as we could. The silence between us was thick and tense, to such an extent that I feared opening my mouth to utter something lest he deliver a cutting retort. The run-in with the bandits had been bad enough, but the questions that he asked when we were resting... Each one I anticipated and dreaded at the same time. We were nearly to Avalon when we ran into Morgana. I took the sword begotten in the Dragon's breath and ran it through her abdomen. Arthur looked to me and said,_

_"You've brought peace at last." I... At the time, it was just another speech to be written down in the books of history and become forgotten. But now I... After twelve years, I'm beginning to realise that the battle for serenity has only just begun- I'm getting ahead of myself, though. The horses had bolted in fright and Avalon was still far away. I tried my hardest to get him there, but it was too late-"_

Arthur read on, tears welling up in his eyes as he remembered vividly the very same conversation that had been transcribed onto paper. It was different, reading it from Merlin's perspective, but it made it all the more meaningful.

" _\- Thank you." I held his motionless body in my arms and desperately called his name, frantically trying to get him to wake up. Tears were streaming down my face as I realised that my friend was dying, and that I was powerless to prevent it. I called for Kilgarrah and he took us to the Lake of Avalon. It was there that he told me,_

_"_ _Though no man, no matter how great, can know his destiny, some lives have been foretold, Merlin...Arthur is not just a_ _King-he is the Once and Future King. Take heart, for when Albion's need is greatest, Arthur will rise again. It has been a privilege to have known you, young warlock-the story we have been a part of will live long in the minds of men."_

_I did not fully appreciate the words at the time, though as the years lengthened and the wait began to corrode the unbreakable spirit of my soul, the flame of hope dying into cold embers, I would hold them close to my heart- or rather in my heart of hearts- as an awning in the middle of a rainstorm- to keep my sanity in the many, many,_ many _long years to come._

_I wept as I sent him in a boat across the Lake of Avalon. My tears were for my king, my friend, a truly great man, and... Well, it may sound strange, but I wept for a brother. I suppose... He was the closest thing I could ever have to one. When I returned to Camelot, it was as if I had stepped into a completely different world. The servants, knights, and nobles were in a state of seemingly perpetual melancholy, and the common people mourned for the death if their king. Not even a ray of sunshine made it through the overcast mantle that was the cloud bank._

_I have come now to the end of my tale, though it lacks a proper epilogue. One day, I may take up my pen again and finish the story where it left off. But until then, I'm afraid that it will sit on some shelf collecting dust, and I will forget about its mere existence. Yet something tells me that another will find it were that to happen, someone..."_

Arthur looked at the final page, confused. The last sentence seemed to stop mid-thought. He turned it over and found a torn fragment of a full page of paper glued to the backing of the book. There was a very faded message written on it.

_"Dear Arthur,_

_One day- I'm guessing somewhere very far in the future from when I write this note, which is the 20th of November in the year of our Lord 1137- you'll come back. And I probably will be a bit different from the clumsy servant you used to know. I've already changed more than I like, but no matter what I experience between now and then, no matter the things I will do or the people I meet, I make this promise to you now: I will never change. At the very end, you didn't want me to. And who I am deep down inside will always be the same man who made such an impression when we first met. I'll still be stupid enough to pull stunts like that, brave enough to verbally spar with you, and loyal enough to watch out for you as I have always done._

_Until our next meeting,_

_And your Dollopheaded servant always,_

_Merlin Emrys"_

Arthur gently closed the book, a tear travelling slowly down his cheek. How had Merlin known- it didn't matter. What had needed to be known and said had been written. A knock came at his door, and Arthur said,

"Enter." Lancelot opened the door to find his king lying flat on his stomach with his head at the foot of his bed with a book before him and his feet propped on the pillows. The knight smiled before speaking.

"What did Merlin have to say, sire?" Arthur smiled back.

"Everything that I needed to hear. What can I do for you?" 

"We're meeting in the council chamber in about half an hour."

"Thanks, Lancelot. Can you do me a favour?" Lancelot paused in the doorway. "Find Merlin and bring him in here, would you?"

"Sure." When he had gone Arthur stood up and stretched, walking over to the window and gazing out into the courtyard. He remained standing there for quite some time, and only turned away from the window when he heard the latch of the door click shut as Merlin entered the room. 

Thinking back to the conversation they had had the morning after they had gotten back, Arthur winced. Merlin had walked in like he had done every morning all those years ago, and after he had gotten the chance to have a private conversation Arthur had told Merlin that he didn't need a servant.

_"Merlin, you don't have to do this anymore."_

_"What are you saying?" His face had been deeply hurt, betrayed even._

_"We'll get maids, we'll get cooks, but-"_

_"But what?"_

_"But we won't need... Manservants... Anymore-"_

_"I see." Merlin curtly left without another word or a chance for explanation._

_"Wait, Merlin!" But it had been no use..._

—•—•—•—

"You wanted to see me, sire?" The formal tone to Merlin's voice was like rubbing salt in a raw wound. Arthur chose his words carefully before saying them.

"Merlin, I know what I said to you that second day-"

"Yes?" This got the better of Arthur, who became irritated.

"If you could just shut up a minute so I could finish what I was trying to say to you!" There was a pause, then:

"Sorry, sire," Merlin muttered sheepishly with head bowed. Despite the offered apology Arthur knew him well enough to know that it was in no way authentic.

"What I meant was this: I won't need a manservant... But I will need an advisor." Merlin's head shot upwards, and those wide blue eyes opened wider in surprise. "I'm a stranger in this new world. You know it better than anyone alive today, I should think, as you've seen how it became what it is. But the reason for this choice goes beyond that. You're a friend who has always said what I _need_ to hear, and not what I _want_ to hear. You're worth more to me than a manservant. And I've always listened to you, even if it hasn't seemed like it." Merlin stood there, not knowing what to say. During this time, Arthur had left the window and crossed over to his bed, where the book lay.

"Then I will do my best to... Continue providing good advice worth acting upon," Merlin finally answered. Arthur smiled.

"Great." It had been a no-brainer that Merlin should be the physician, having studied many long years under Gaius and being as capable as he was to treat serious afflictions with magic. He was going back to examine an injury when Arthur called to him in the hallway. The warlock turned to look at the blonde, who had slightly chased him and was standing in the door to his room holding out a very old and well worn book. Merlin regarded it curiously, wondering why he was offering it.

"This is yours, isn't it?" Arthur couldn't help but smile when a look of recognition flooded his friend's face. He took it gingerly from the blonde's hands and cradled it in his own, scrutinising over the cover and flipping trough the pages quickly to see with his easily following eyes how well the binding and writing itself had held up over the years. When he looked back at Arthur, he said,

"Thank you." Arthur started retreating into his room.

"No Merlin; _thank you."_ Merlin was smiling and crying slightly as he walked through the beautiful halls of his youth. They were undergoing renovations to put in heating and running water, electricity, all of that stuff. But tourists were flocking in every day to see the famed city of Camelot, and it was for historical preservation that the decision had been made to only update those things which had become necessary to the people of the modern world. But the buildings and the daily activities, the way people dressed- it would all remain the same. Even the role of the physician. If there was anything beyond his skill they would be sent to the nearest major hospital in the neighbouring city. A road was being built through the winding woods to reach a parking lot situated close by the walls of the city, though people still had a walk before actually entering in.

What remained of the wide open farming fields was being converted back into farmland, and the orchards were once gain being maintained. A problem had arisen concerning security, though Merlin had set Arthur's mind at ease. Every day more Druids and people who had professionally studied the arts of jousting, duelling, and archery were coming into Camelot from all around the world. Leon, Gwaine, Elyan, Lancelot, and Percival were working hard to train them properly alongside Arthur. They left the Druids to Merlin, who in turn left them to their own teaching devices. He would look in on the newcomers, but for the most part let the Druid leaders teach according to the longstanding traditions of their people. 

_Some things will never change,_ Merlin thought. He glanced at his watch and realised that the council meeting was to begin in ten minutes. _And some things do,_ he added with a smile.

When Merlin walked into his chambers he saw Mairin treating the patient's wrist. She looked up, sensing he was watching her, and they exchanged a mutual smile. It had been the right decision to take her as his apprentice; her capacity for caring about the sick and injured was rivalled only by her skill of the healing arts. She had real potential in both magic and healing, if she had someone patient teaching her. 

"Are you ready? We have to be there in about... Seven minutes?" Mairin finished binding the man's arm and followed him out. 

They arrived in the council chamber and Merlin sat in his spot around the Round Table. He was on Arthur's right side and Guinevere was on his left; Mairin leaned against a column to watch. What few representatives remained of Parliament were gathered there also, as until a new Prime Minister was elected Camelot was the ruling authority of Britain. 

The topic of the meeting ranged over a variety of things, and when it was over Merlin climbed to highest tower and looked out over the land. After a few minutes, Arthur joined him.

"It feels strange, living in Camelot and seeing a motorway just behind that stand of trees," Merlin commented. Arthur leaned against the old stone railing and sighed.

"If ever we were to advance into the future, we must keep one foot in the past lest we repeat our mistakes." 

"That's a bit wise, especially for you," Merlin replied, chuckling. Both men were smiling, looking down on the lower town. Bryrdan perched on the battlements, tail sweeping lazily from side to side as he observed the typical summer day in Camelot.

A jet trail followed the silver plane as it soared in the sky above.


	32. Epilogue

Merlin put down his pen, satisfied with the ending sentence. He gingerly closed the new leather bound book and pressed the new Pendragon Crest, which had the Druidic border around the Dragon, into the soft cover. He then took a quill, dipped it in golden ink, and inscribed the title " _The Pendragon Return"_ on it. Then, mindful of the wet letters, he slid it carefully onto the bookshelf next to _"A Journal of Accurate Historical Happenings."_

**Author's Note:**

> All rights go to the BBC. The storyline continues from where "Merlin" left off in series five, depicting the return of the king in Albion's greatest time of need. The setting is in 21st century England and Wales, and research has been done into the possible locations of the Lake of Avalon and Camelot today. While the cities are not confirmed, they have been suggested and are not out of consideration. Looking at the landscape and considering all variables for the appropriate time period, the locations I have selected were not without thought.
> 
> However, while the rights to characters, places, and things mentioned in "Merlin" go to the show and the BBC, everything else comes from my mind and this should be considered. It's not a revolutionary concept, Arthur's return, but this is my version and I would like that to be respected. In other words: No stealing. I have the Doctor on speed dial, and he can go back in time to get Merlin to deal with you. (Not really. But I might!)


End file.
